Mansion on the Hill
by Nymph Du Pave
Summary: *UPDATED* A Shipper's Alternate-Ending to 'Cool'. Everything towards the end unfolds just a ~littlebit~ differently :) Fourth Chapter 'Even Closer' IS NOW UP. Action/Adventure-Romance-Horror and a tiny bit of Angst. Please R&R!! Chap 5 coming pretty soon.
1. Preface - Synopsis

TITLE: Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "Cool" (PREFACE)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
**SUMMARY: The preface deals with a synopsis of the episode enititled _"Cool"_ written by Michael Green. I'm putting it here _only_ to remind readers of what happened in that particular episode [up to where my fan fiction starts] and claim no creative responsibility for it.**   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please excuse any personal rants I have included in this synopsis, as I could not write about this epi without including a few. I kept it pretty tame, though.   
DISCLAIMER: The WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola [along with whomever else] own this wonderfully cute show. I am merely borrowing the characters to use in my own evil ways and will try to return them as mentally cognizant and stable as when I took them [with the exception of the incredibly handsome and elegant Michael Rosenbaum of whom I might never let go ;)], but I can't make any promises. The Muse controls these fingers.   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com 

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**Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "_Cool_"**

**PREFACE - A Reintroduction to "_Cool_"**

_In the first half of "Cool":_

A teen party at Crater Lake rages on with illegally consumed booze and lots of heavy making out. Shawn Kelvin, football player and short-term romance connoisseur, hits on Chloe and receives the usually dubious and skeptical teen reporter's digits before going to play ball with his teammates. His crew is beckoned back to the party by pizza, leaving him to fetch the ball solo. Walking on the ice- which looks deceptively thick- turns fatal for the jock as the ice cracks and Shawn falls through. He is trapped by quickly reforming ice, doomed to drown beneath the see-through sheet. Or is he? 

Meteors lie ominously below the surface and the morning dawns a new life for young Kelvin. Ice cold, he looks to fire to warm his body and it works. Temporarily. 

Same time - different scene, Clark overhears about the financial problems the farm is in, including the mention of the dreaded "bank loan". His parents don't want his help, though. They just want him to get to school. 

On the walk to the school bus he finds that Chloe did not get the call from Mr. Wonderful but at least she's putting on an okay face. 

Shawn has decided that, despite his sudden chill, school is an A-okay activity for the day, but ends up going to see the nurse almost immediately. He just can't seem to get warm, he tells her. Worried, she puts her hand to his forehead. Feeling the heat within, he locks her hand in place with his own. 

_Nurse: "Okay, now you're giving me the chills."_   
[Foreshadowing anyone??] 

He's suddenly warmer and takes off thanking the nurse who rechecks the thermometer. This _can't_ be right... 

During school hours, Lex Luthor decides to visit the Kent Farm. He informs Martha Kent of an upcoming community chat at his mansion, having to deal with modernization and expansion for the local farmers and Smallville in general. He makes his case known that, despite Jonathon's distaste for him, he would still like to know Martha's thoughts on his propositions. 

After school hours, Lex visits the Beanery, working on yet another personal scheme. Seeing Lana gives him an opportunity to grace his buddy, Clark, in white light, so he slanders the football player, then takes his leave and watches as Whitney unwittingly proves his point. Lana is, understandably disappointed as her boyfriend has canceled their weekend plans for a pay-per-view fight. 

Enter the over-affectionate Clark Kent, watching his cozy crush read a book in plush coffee house seating. Lex moves into Part B of his ingenious plan, informing his friend of Lana's current zero-activity status. He offers tickets to a Radiohead concert in Metropolis to a confused Clark- 

_Clark: "Why are you doing this?"_   
[evil laughter from the slash-loving fans may ensue here ;)] 

-if he asks the girl out. He then adds limo action as an extra incentive if Clark can make a touchdown in less than a minute. Clark grabs the tickets from Lex's outstretched hand and runs inside. Using the trite "just as friends" bait, he gets a hesitant Lana to come with him to the concert. 

At school the next day Clark informs his highly impressed friends of his "non-date" with Lana Lang, and moments later Shawn approaches, asking Chloe out. She decides to play a little hard to get, mentioning that she has to 'put the paper to bed', but that she was still interested. Without saying another word, Shawn walks off, approaching his ex-girl, Jenna Barnum. Poor Chloe is left insulted and not understanding what she does to turn off guys. She and Pete walk away and Clark, [with as evil an eye as Clark Kent can give], watches Shawn and Jenna leave. 

Ah, yes, the obligatory 'nude blonde in the shower' scene [with the ever constant 'Homage to Horror' aura this WB show gives off, was anyone _not_ expecting it?], only this time she's got an electric radio with her and she's singing along. Shawn approaches and it seems that Jenna has been awaiting the company. He flings back the curtain, though, revealing his disfiguration and all genial hospitality is gone. He touches the faucet turning the hot water to ice almost instantly, and Jenna freaks. She stumbles out of the shower covering herself with the curtain [I wish this was a ShowTime production... Nudity, curse words (Jonathan in the beginning of 'Jitters' anyone?!? PLEASE!) and CLex would have a better chance] and Shawn pulls her into his embrace. Giving her a big smacker-roo, he absorbs every last bit of heat from her body, turning it blue. He lets her go and she shatters as she hits the bathroom floor [or so we guess as we never actually see the shattering]. 

Back at the Kent farm, Martha and Jonathon bicker [in a way that makes most teenagers watching wish their parents could learn from these easy-goers] about going to Lex's, then Martha drops the anvil, telling her husband that she volunteered his presence already. Clark comes in [saved by the bell, Martha] and tells his folks of the date with Lana, and about the benefactor of the night's recreational pastime. Jonathon is not happy with Lex's control over their arrangements, but it seems he's got no choice [thanks, Ma!]. 

At home, Evil Shawn is looking up ex-flames in hopes that one of them will light his fire [oh, come on! I'm kinda funny, right? Right?!], but all of the breakups seem to have been vicious ones as his 'please, let's get together's are getting no sympathy taxes. He then sees Chloe's number, still on his hand. Ahhhh... 

Back at the Kent farm yet again, Chloe and Clark are discussing his "not a date-date" when Chloe gets a call from Shawn, who then invites her to have coffee with him. Excited she tells Clark and he's surprised to find that she really does like Shawn, even though she considers him "intellectually challenged".   
  


_Later that night:_

Entering the Luthor Manor, Martha is impressed and showing it, Jonathon is uncomfortable and hostile, especially when the two Kents discover that Lex has only invited them. Apparently there was never any community chat planned, and Jonathon is suspicious of Lex's intentions, but stays because of Martha's pleading look. 

Lana and Clark are on their way to Metropolis in Lex Luthor's limousine. They have a brief discussion about each others ways to hide from the disappointments of life, then Clark uses his X-ray vision to do a card trick. He strokes Lana's finger with his while taking the card back and they both become uncomfortable. They talk about having to clarify that this was not a "date" and Clark asks Lana just what she told Whitney. She explains to Clark that she didn't tell him. 

_Lana: "He's hanging out with his friends, and I'm hanging out with mine."_

Lana then flips on the television inside the limo and they watch a new report on the death of Jenna Barnum and learn that the manhunt for the seventeen year old Shawn is still underway. Clark yells to the chauffeur to stop the car [it's a limo, Clark!!]. 

Chloe's at her computer in the high school newspaper's office [uh, okay, so I could just put the Torch's office] and she hears a banging locker door. She leaves the room to investigate [No, Chloe, damnit!] sees an arrow pointing to a trail of yellow petals and follows. 

Clark drops Lana and the limo off at the Beanery, then tells her to wait, saying that he'd be back, explain later and that, [by the way you blind, stupid girl] this was the best non-date he'd ever had [does she deserve him? NO!]. 

Chloe, still following the trail of rose petals, ends up at the pool room and goes in. She calls jokingly out to Shawn who closes and locks the door behind her. She turns, sees him and asks what happened. He tells her that he can't get warm, that body heat lasts longest. She is either pushed into the pool or she falls [bad camera angle, but I'm pretty sure she just fell] and, after the initial shock, she tries to swim to the other side. Shawn sucks all of the heat from the pool, locking Chloe's foot, ankle high, within the ice. He starts to cross the ice after her when Clark gets to the door, breaking it open and running to her side. He punches through the ice and gets grabbed by Shawn who he then punches to the other side of the pool. He helps Chloe get to the door- as she's limping with her frozen foot- tells her to run, then turns around finding Shawn, [yep, you got it] gone [dun-dun-_dun_!! (music, if you hadn't guessed)]. 

A little later on they are in the Torch office again, this time Chloe's trying to find anything on Shawn's condition, but there's nothing. Clark wants to get her home so she, ready to go, starts to leave, the grabs Clark. 

_Chloe: "Yuh-You have to believe me when I say that almost getting my heat sucked was _not_ a passive-aggressive attempt to ruin your date."_   
_Clark: "Lana."_

Back at the Beanery, Pete walks in with a girl, spots Lana and wanders over to find out why she's not with Clark. They talk, Pete spills about how he can't imagine anything being more important to Clark than her, and Whitney enters the frame. He asks her what she was doing in the Beanery and she says she was just reading. Pete tells Lana that he'd talk to her later, and then starts to leave. Lana offers him a spin in the limo [_always_ bugged the hell out of me!! This is **NOT YOUR LIMO, LANA!!** This is from Lex to Clark for his date (non-date, whatever) with you! **ARGH!** Truly Nell's influence must be rubbing off] and Whitney wants to know what she was doing in a limo. She says she was just hanging out with a friend and asks him for a ride home. 

Shawn freezes over a [pathetic little] lock, breaking into the Smallville Power Plant/Station/Whatever-the-hell. 

Meanwhile, Clark is back to the Beanery, finding Lana is no longer there. Then the lights dim and Clark instinctively knows. 

_Clark: "Sean."_

Still at the Plant/Station/Whatever, Shawn has gotten hold of something electric [shocking! ha, ha] and is trying to warm himself. 

Luthor Manor: [it's been awhile] the lights go off and after a moment, come back on. Lex mentions the generator, then asks where they were. Jonathon is sarcastic about Lex's help and says that he learned from someone smarter than him that you have to solve your own problems. Lex knows Jonathon's speaking of his father, and mentions that even the senior Kent had government help. Jonathon is not at all happy that Lex has been looking into their financial history. 

_Jonathon: "Why are you _so_ interested in our family, Lex?"_   
Walking away, thinking.   
_Lex: "Your son brought me back from the dead, Mr. Kent. When he reached in and pulled me out, he gave me a new life."_   
He turns back to Jonathon.   
_Lex: "Your father put his family's future over his own pride. Are you willing to do that?"_

Whitney is driving Lana home and wants everything explained. He thinks it was a date that she was out on and she tries to explain that it wasn't, that Clark is just a friend, that's it. Whitney appears to be about to reply when they both see Sean in the middle of the road. Whitney swerves into a ditch to avoid him [truck count for Whitney: 2 (in how many episodes from the first to this one?). Lana's ankle might be twisted and Shawn is now gone. Whitney guides Lana to Luthor Manor just down the road, where they see the lights are on. 

Lex is offering a partnership and Jonathon brings up the possibility of a taking a loan instead. Martha says with a small smile that Lex's presentation looks generous [anyone who has this baby on tape: watch where Jonathon's eyes fall first before moving to her face! LOL!! Guys!] and Lex hands them drinks then takes his own, saying that Jonathon can take his time to think about the proposal. A servant suddenly interrupts, showing Lana and Whitney into the study. Martha wants to know where Clark is. 

Clark enters the scene of Whitney's second truck-homicide [he's thinking '_No doubt, Whitney's been here._'] and looks inside, only to be grabbed by Shawn from behind [did he just not see him hiding in the middle of an _empty field_?!?! Or was he hiding behind the truck? And, one more thing: WHY DID HE WAIT THERE? Why didn't he go after Lana and Whitney? Yeesh!]. A glowing light emits, Clark drops to the ground, frozen by Shawn who then looks to the Luthor manor and heads towards his not completely unsuspecting victims. 

Lana and Whitney are sitting awkwardly by the fire. Whitney looks to Lana for a second then down. Lex comes over with scrumptious-looking, warm drinks and tells them that he's got the gate down and the alarm on; that they're staying at his mansion until they're safe and that he's sorry about Lana's date. Lana and Whitney look at him for a second then at each other. Jonathon has his cell phone out [tell me, with as crazy a life as Clark leads, why does he not a have his own cell? Or at least a friggin beeper? He doesn't have to have it on him in that part of the episode, but it'd make sense if they tried to call _him_ and not the _house_], and explains to Martha that he's still getting the answering machine. The lights dim. 

Shawn is outside Luthor Manor with his hand to the generator, sucking the heat and looking rather perversely orgasmic. 

Clark is still unconscious for a moment, then his icy hand twitches. After a moment he takes a difficult looking gasp of air in. 

We're back to Lex's study, lit by candles. Lex comes back with three flashlights, two of them for the Kents. He hands them over, and Jonathon says he's going go check the gate. Lex says that it should be secure. Martha says she's going to check the generator [why, oh, why didn't stupid Jonathon realize that _this_ would be the more dangerous task of the two?! Idiot!] and asks Lex where it is. He tells her then offers to go himself, but she takes off, leaving Lex, Lana and Whitney alone.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**On to PROLOGUE: Set Up**

_This is obviously not where "Cool" ended, but it is where my fan fiction starts, so for my evil and wicked purposes, the rest of what happened is **void**._   
_((you probably can't hear me, but I'm laughing right now; oh, and it's **very evil laughter.** _MWA-HAHAHA_))_   



	2. Prologue - Set Up

TITLE: Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "Cool" (PROLOGUE)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
GENRE: Action/Adventure, Suspense, Itty-bitty Angst [if you could even call it that], Romance and Horror [I won't flatter myself here, there's just a tiny bit of that horror influence (I hope)]   
SUMMARY: Set up of character motivations.   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com 

* * *

**Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "_Cool_"**

**PROLOGUE - Set Up**

_……………Cccccccccooooooooooolllllllllllllddddddddddddd………………_ One was so cold and just wanted to get warm. That was all, and nobody would understand, nobody could and then it grew deeper because true power corrupts and turns. This one has raw power spawning from his needs, from his hate and fears… 

_"It wasn't a date, Clark's a friend, that's it."_ One was tired. Tired of others (including her beloved) assuming she didn't love the one she'd committed herself to. Tired of other's trying to change her mind and push her into a relationship that would be dull and listless in comparison to the one she was already in… 

_"You're farm's drowning in debt, we both know it. All I'm trying to do is offer you a hand, but you keep slapping it away."_ One just wanted, _needed _to help, to insure a future that was looking towards rough and questionable times instead of the brighter, happier days it deserved. To make sure the one he secretly loved had everything they'd ever wanted and more… 

_"Which begs the question: What does Lex Luthor get out of all this?"_ One couldn't trust what was not strong and true and dependable. Shady tactics and back alley deals, under-the-table contracts and loopholes everywhere. He just wanted to protect what he held close, what he felt dear and couldn't put that trust into the youngest of a dark and dubious lineage… 

_"Where's Clark?"_ One, worried about her little boy, was not blind to the world around her. She saw the affection, the sentiment, the integrity and sincerity in every breath. She could never have guessed how deep it truly ran but only wanted happiness for everyone, inner peace and calm… 

_……………I've got to find him before he kills someone……………_ One seemed born to rescue and defend, a savior from the moment he crash-landed on earthly soil. One whose natural instinct was to defend what merited preservation, to try and right the wrongs, and salvage what he could…   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**On to CHAPTER ONE: Warm Up**


	3. Chapter One - Warm Up

TITLE: Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "Cool" (CHAPTER ONE - Warm Up)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
GENRE: Action/Adventure, Suspense, Itty-bitty Angst, Romance and Horror   
AU: Just a tad. Lex's mother in the show is dead [awwww...]. Well, she's not in my story. She's not even really that important, I just thought I'd mention this.   
PAIRINGS: Jonathon Kent/Martha Kent, Lana Lang/Whitney Fordman [okay, so that's WAY AU, lol], Clark Kent/Lex Luthor [that's just natural *sigh*].   
RATING: R [for language, violence & sexual content]   
SUMMARY: The beginning.   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I've been writing this on and off ever since the episode first came out. I got the idea at the very end of the epi. I hated that they had this perfect horror/suspense set-up [even the possibility of a terrific two-parter] with Shawn lose on Luthor grounds and everyone scattered. But did the WB play off it? No. Of course not. They had a ten second fight and **BAM!!** Shawn falls in and freezes over Luthor Lake [which wouldn't have happened because Shawn only froze things he _wanted_ to take the heat out of]. Argh! So, I have taken it upon myself to work with this story and make it the way that I see it should have been! ((evil snickering here))   
FEEDBACK: Please! This is my first attempt at Action/Adventure and stuff!!   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
AUTHOR'S **_BIG ASS_** THANKS: To my _wonderful, exquisite_ Beta Reader, Fernando (FaItHzAnGeL), who got this back to me a day before his own set deadline and two before mine!!! Thank you SO much... And to Lyle Brown, my go through guy- you're pretty alright, too ;o)   


* * *

  
**Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "_Cool_"**

**CHAPTER ONE - Warm Up**   


Shawn Kelvin shoved his numbed hands into his pockets, the temporary heat from the generator already fading. He wanted to scream at the trembles to stop. He hated this. All he wanted was to be warm. That was all. Couldn't people see that? Couldn't people tell that he wasn't violent, that he didn't necessarily want to _kill _anyone? It was the only way he could get warm, the only fucking way that he could stop the endless goddamn shakes and the frozen muscles, his sore eyes, and his aching nose.   
His feet, his hands, his bones… They were all so cold, and no one cared, no one was trying to help him, no one wanted to warm him up. They never would because this was Smallville where everything weird got tossed to the side. They all just wanted him dead so that there would be one less problem, one less thing to ignore in Smallville.   
He knew this because he had been there, looking at the freaky things with distaste, with a sick morbid fascination and a wish for it just go away- all of it.   
Now he was on this side, and none of them cared, including that Sullivan chick. He'd always laugh at the things she wrote about, had been into the paper's headquarters on a number of times for the articles on sports. He'd seen her "Wall of Weird". Who in school didn't know about the little freak's obsessions with the bigger freaks and mutations out there?   
He'd seen Chloe's number on his palm, remembering all of that shit she used to write and felt a sudden pang of anger and sorrow that he might, if he let himself, become another Sullivan article to hang up. To be pasted up there with the woman who gave birth to thousands of snakes, the haunted ice-cream parlor, the suspicious death of his coach, and plant that had been found eating human beings. He was certainly already material enough. Young teenage Romeo with the Janus reputation drowns then reemerges, unable to stay warm unless taking the body heat from "hot" teenaged girls. Of course he could take body heat from _anyone_, but the papers would make it out to be karma, would bring out the symbolism, and he'd be front-page material for the torch, just like Coach.   
_ That's not gonna happen._   
It _had _been perfect: the cold driving him a little crazy, none of his ex's even giving him the time of day, then finding Chloe's number still written in that red ink of hers, practically standing out in 3-D on the blue of his palm. _That_ was karma.   
He'd phoned her. Set up a little date. Ha! She'd sounded so pleased to get his call. And he was pleased she'd agreed to see him. Made it all the more fun. Out of disgust and rancor for her exploitation of the weird, of the bizarre, he'd enticed the young journalistic hopeful, luring her with romantic flower petals into the school pool. Playing on her emotions. He'd then enacted upon the I-can't-help-myself-I'm-so-cold-and-in-pain-I-have-to-do-this-I-have-no-choice sympathy card, but he couldn't keep a straight face. He smiled right before that little bitch fell into the pool. She had been so damn close to being _his_, killed by the very fascination that seemed to claim her identity.   
_ Fucking Kent._   
He shivered again and clenched his teeth to try to stop them from chattering. Stupid farmboy had to come in and fuck it all up. And what the hell was with that kid anyway? Freakishly strong, being able to send him flying across the frozen surface of the pool like that.   
However, Clark wasn't _all_ bad. He was thankful for the boy's timing as far as showing up after the truck accident with Whitney and Lana. Definitely a _great _source of body heat, though Shawn could have sworn the cold was affecting his eyes.   
_ Kent could not have moved that fast. No one was that quick._   
No. Not at all. He had been a blur, but it _had to be _the cold, the ice affecting Shawn's eyesight. No other way to explain it. Unless it was the same kind of thing as the hard-hitting punch in the poolroom. And when he broke Sullivan's foot out of the ice.   
There was always Shawn's resurrection from Crater Lake to go on record for comparison. How would one explain _that _exactly?   
Also yet, another matter dealt with Kent's oddness. Shawn, if he was thinking correctly, had left his school chum alive, even if just barely. He had taken heat from Kent, considerably more than he had from anyone else, and still sensed a deep reserve within. He had been momentarily torn between wanting to stay and take the rest and wanting to give Miss Popularity a run for her money. Little Lana Lang's company- the promise of seeing just how "warm" she really was- had been too tempting and had almost instantaneously won out.   
_ That jump ahead might have been a mistake. Rushed. Should have taken all of the heat from Clark first. Stupid._   
Then again, Lana wasn't alone. He grinned. _Maybe I'll take out Whitney as an appetizer. _He was a tad on the jealous side, had been since the eighth grade, when Fordman had started dating Lana, but then again what red-blooded Smallville male regardless of age wasn't resentful of the Crow's captain? The moron didn't deserve something that luscious, that ready to be corrupted and Shawn could tell she was, would know what was ripe for the picking and he most definitely had the reputation to prove it.   
_ Besides, with a name like "Whitney", shouldn't the guy be more interested in his mates on the football team than in the cheerleading squad? Fag._   
He shivered, still hidden in the shadows of the trees, slowly loosing his patience. He'd find his way in somehow, then- before he headed to Chloe's house for revenge- he'd be getting two things he wanted for a very long time: Whitney disposed of, _literally_, and Lana in his arms.   
He grinned._ At least for a moment._

+_+_+_+_+ 

_ So cold, can't breathe, can't breathe, oh, god, what's wrong with me? I'm stronger than this. Get up! Breathe! Do SOMETHING!_   
He gasped, the sound horrible and wretched to his ears, the air feeling like fire to his sore lungs. He looked around with his dry, stone-thick eyes stinging in the cold air and coughed, the action making his lungs feel as it they had just been crushed between two very large, very cruel hands. If he wasn't careful, if he didn't try hard enough to breathe, he might suffocate in the cold.   
_ Is this what it feels like to drown? Lex… Is this what Lex felt like when I brought him back?_   
He closed his eyes and breathed in, chest hurting so badly.   
_ To almost die then to come back to this… To have to put up such a fight. He must have wanted to just roll over and give up._   
He pushed the disturbing thought of a dead Lex Luthor out of his mind and trying to stretch out his fingers. They felt rigid and anesthetized, his whole body numb to anything and everything but the cold. He was shaking.   
_ Lana and Whitney._   
He had to get up, had to find them before Shawn got to them. He was lucky: he could survive the worst, including this cold. But them? They were human and Lana… She seemed to be more frangible than most, even with her ultra-strong personality masking the hidden fragility.   
_ Lex._   
He knew the road he was on was next to a field that led to Lex's house and from his many trips here as both delivery boy and comrade, he knew that the Luthor Manor was the only place even close to the vicinity of the car accident. Lionel Luthor owned most of the surrounding acreage, encompassing the manor in pure solitude.   
It would make sense that Lana and Whitney would have gone towards that effulgent beacon searching for impenetrable refuge.   
_ They had to- Mom and Dad! Oh, God! They said they were heading to Lex's tonight._   
Lex, Lana, his parents. Four of the six most important people in his life were in lethal jeopardy and could possibly die. None of them knew that Shawn posed more danger than an average wacko teenager. After the accident… Did Lana? Did Whitney? Did they see what he could do?   
Whitney would want to protect Lana and Lex would try to take charge of the situation. The football player and even Clark's own parents- no longer on their own turf- would follow instructions given by the older boy. Clark was suddenly having an even harder time breathing. He knew what lay hidden beneath Lex. Something more comparable to Jonathon than any would admit, something more courageous than Clark's own heart bore considering that he only took this title of protector when he knew of his own impregnability. Sure, there was the chance that he could die, but he knew he had powers that put him on the safer side, that constantly gave him the advantage.   
This was his purpose now. He had been endowed with capabilities that he felt obligated to use to protect. But Lex… Lex didn't have any of that and yet…   
He would try to save them all.   
_ How long have I been out of it? Could they already be de-_   
"No," he wheezed out.   
It felt like something massive with the ability to grow more cumbersome by will alone was atop his chest, weighing down with all its might. Still, the thought of his loved ones in peril had him solidifying his willpower and forcing himself to sit, his jaw clenching in pain. He found that he couldn't distinguish between the sounds of his bones creaking, his joints popping, and the ice-sheen over his body breaking.   
_ If Chloe ever tells me she's frozen stiff in Independent Study again, I'll have to-_   
He cut himself off, remembering Chloe's own little run in with psycho-Shawn. He doubted she'd be using any word lightly that happened to refer to chilly temperatures.   
Standing up, he realized he could use his superspeed to heat his body up. He moved his arms around in pinwheels as fast as he could for a few seconds, feeling like a complete doofus. He felt the ice breaking up and stopped flailing. Worrisome stiffness remained in his biceps and forearms, but having no time to ponder the change, he just took off, running into the field, ice flying of his legs. His body warmed up as he ran, and he figured that he'd be back to normal soon, though his lungs and limbs were still sore.   
He cried out at the sudden stabbing pain in his head, stopping still so far from the mansion and grabbing the newly throbbing skull in his hands.   
_ Damn it!_   
"Why… am I so… weak…" he whispered.   
_ I have to get to that house._   
He tried to walk a few steps further but the world spun before him and he instead fell to his knees on the ground. The pain was so bad it was making him sick, queasy.   
_ I pushed myself to soon. I pushed too hard and soon._   
Shawn and his heat-stealing maneuver had actually weakened him to the point where it was going to take time to get back up to tempo.   
_ I don't have time!_ The pressure on his chest had been reduced to nearly nothing, feeling like a cumbrous hand touching him instead of an eighteen-wheeler parked on top of him, but the truck might have well relocated to his gray matter for all the raw agony was doing to him.   
_ Shawn could be killing someone._   
Brownish-red hair and a sweet face filled his mind, a sweet face distorted in pain and anguish, turning a dark, unhealthy shade of blue.   
_ Mom!_   
His mind heard Jonathan gasping for air, trying desperately to scream for his little boy, the one person alive that could help him breathe again.   
_ Dad!_   
He saw a handsome, aristocratic, sometimes beautifully kind face, as cadaverous and ashen as one day not long ago, pink lips tinted azure.   
_ Lex!_   
Thinking of his parents, the bald young man, Lana, even Whitney- thinking of them having their warmth absorbed, their very lives engulfed; thinking of the pain that he was experiencing, had experienced the moment Shawn tried to kill him and internally enflame himself…   
He stood, not able to bare the pictures that were spreading through his mind, and was more than a little relieved to find that his headache was evaporating some.   
Clark pushed himself to walk, but anything faster than his awkward gait had his brain pulsing like the soundtrack to _Blade_.   
_ Can't I go any faster_, he screamed internally, but still could do nothing but stumble weakly towards the mansion. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Ow!"   
Martha Kent collided with another overbearing statue and wondered what good the little flashlight in her hands was doing. She cursed herself for not letting Lex Luthor check on the generator, just as the boy had insisted. It was his house and grounds after all, and he _would_ know better where to find the damned thing. But no, she had to get all protective, all _'I'm the adult, here'_ on him, even though, at 23, he did technically qualify as an adult. Still, she saw it as her job, as well as Jonathan's, to protect the group; as the grown-ups of the assemblage it was their duty to take responsibility. She could have no more let Whitney or Lana come out here.   
_ Especially Lana_, she thought, grimacing as she remembered just how trouble-prone and utterly clueless the sweet girl was. Kind and smart, yes, but not the most observant of young ladies, especially when it came to Clark's feelings for her.   
Not perceptive at all.   
_ That's not nice._ She sighed, too upset and fretful to think straight.   
She had hoped that looking for the generator instead of waiting in the study would calm her down. A task to help her to get refocused. She hadn't meant to be so rude to Lex when leaving, it was just that… Well, she had to get out of this- this _castle_. It was intimidating, to both her and, despite what he said, Jonathan.   
She rolled her eyes, more than a little peeved at her husband for being so hard on the Luther boy. Lex had been deceptive, yes, but for a good reason. What he assumed had been correct: if she or Jonathan- especially Jonathan- had known the real circumstances of the financial meeting, they would never have come. It had been hard enough convincing Jon to go when they thought a large portion of the farming community had been invited to the monetary meeting. It would have been utterly impossible had he known that it was a private meeting meant for two Kents and a Luthor.   
Their dilemma was simple- they didn't want charity, or handouts, or friendly, interest-free loans. Ever. As a young girl living in the city, she had learned a lot about arrearage, all the hard way. Her parents had been forever in debt up to their waists, and sometimes higher. To friends, family, the bank, the government… Even the neighbors. She had never wanted that for herself or her own family.   
Ever.   
Turning another corner, she reached head of the stairs and saw that the foyer and front door was just up ahead. She knew that the generator was somewhere outside to the… 'side of the building'.   
_ Just how many sides does this building have??_   
"Real descriptive, Lex," she muttered.   
She jogged down the large staircase and through the foyer to the entrance. Struggling for a second with the heavy front door, she eventually lugged it open and stepped out, pulling it quickly shut behind her. She jumped as the door slammed loudly behind her, no doubt resounding all throughout the large and empty house, but she was too grateful to be outside to really pay much attention. She shivered and pulled her sweater and jacket closer to her.   
_ "Your father lived in different times. And he had his share of help."_   
She walked ahead, breathing steam into the frigid night air.   
_ "Your father put his family's future over his own pride. Are you willing to do that?"_   
She grimaced, remembering Lex's reckless words. He had been attempting to get Jonathon's attention, just trying to tell the man that accepting help was… Well, _acceptable_. And respectable.   
_ Wrong move_, she thought.   
Lex's manner was so used to being molded like argil into a custom of contempt and superior dismissal, that it had become the norm to the boy, and it showed through in his average speaking voice and inflections. Only Martha's ears had picked up the genuine interest and care that had been lurking somewhere beneath the surface.   
The young man was obviously not all that adept at letting others know what he felt, at least when it came to concern, and Martha guessed that this had to do with the rather interesting lineage the boy had been spawned into. She figured that the Luthor's weren't too affectionate or emotional. Not a thought completely original to her, but some mass assumptions were based on a grain of truth.   
_ A _"grain"_ of truth? More like an _oak tree_ of it._   
To her husband, Lex's tone was no doubt filled with the egotistical disdain that was ever-present in Jonathon's dealings with many socialites and had held the infamous self-satisfied air that seemed to shadow Luthors around like a nasty, black smog. She knew that she would not be able to console her husband and in the same vein knew that Lex had lost his play the moment he mentioned her father-in-law. Jonathon adored the man with all he had and Lex had just dented the shining armor that Richard Kent had always been graced with.   
She frowned. _Come to think of it, there were several things wrong with Lex's proposal._   
She thought for a moment and almost tripped on an root, peeking through the dirt. There were an awful lot of them around.   
As she steadied herself, she was hit with sudden realization as to just why Lex had been so completely unorganized. He had wanted to speak to them as _Clark's parents_ instead of future business associates. Notwithstanding, of course, the professional terminology the young man had spoken in and the strenuous background checks he'd no doubt done on them both.   
There had been blatant and- at least to her observations- genuine concern for their welfare.   
Or, more accurately, _Clark's_ welfare.   
The young man was most attentive to the thought of their son's future. He'd brought up college tuition several times and mentioned that, even though Clark's grades were wonderful, so-called _full_ scholarships didn't cover everything. When Jonathan had gone into a tiff about where Lex had acquired Clark's grades, the boy calmly replied that he learned of them had while getting to know their son. Martha didn't doubt him for a moment about this; not only could they always check with Clark, but the two boys seemed to have really hit it off, despite Jon's obvious aversion to the idea of his son socializing with a human brandishing the dreaded Luthor denomination. Clark was always so quick to assume everyone had friendly intent, and surprisingly, Martha agreed with him in the case of his newest friend. Lex seemed different than the rumors insinuated, at least around the three Kents, and she was willing to give him the benefit of doubt.   
She shivered in the cold weather and followed the curve of the Scottish architecture to find yet another corner a few yards away.   
_ Clark._   
Argh. Lana's presence with Whitney at the manor meant that Clark had left her to find Shawn. And if Shawn had caused Whitney's automobile accident less than a mile away, she hoped- no she _knew_ that her son, he with the hero complex, was not far behind.   
She was worried like hell about him.   
_ --"It's Clark, Martha."--_   
_ Duh. Maternal instinct, Jon. Maternal instinct._   
She loved him to death, would do anything for the man, but sometimes his condescension was enough to warrant a little destructive physicality. It was just a damn shame she was too small and petite to do any real damage. Or cause anything but amused looks when trying.   
She ran the last few feet to the end of the side of the building and turned the corner, sighing in relief as she saw that the generator was indeed on this side of the building. She carefully climbed down the steep hill, her flashlight bobbing up and down in unison with her movements, and slowed, noticing the dimensions of the back-up power source.   
_ Well, no wonder. It must have burnt out. It's a little small for a mansion this size, isn't it?_ She smiled, relieved that the problem was as simple as an actual, honest-to-god burnout. Things weren't usually that uncomplicated in Smallville.   
Martha neared and the smile dissolved as she realized she been too eager to jump to a conclusion. She saw the slick coating of glossy ice and the dagger-like icicles hanging from the machine. Trailed her hand over the cold metal and ice, she stopped to linger briefly on a hand print larger than hers. The machine was frozen solid.   
"What the-"   
** -snap-**   
She turned, the sound of a brittle twig in the brush beyond her, catching her attention.   
She swallowed, her voice suddenly dry. "Jonathon?" 

+_+_+_+_+ 

He took a deep breath an counted to twenty. For the fourth time.   
_ The nerve_, he thought, steaming. _The absolute nerve_. Did Lex Luther actually think that by throwing Richard Kent's financial history in his son's face, he would achieve the man's regard? Get the man to bow down to his wishes?   
"Dumb move, kid," he muttered to himself, swinging the flashlight to his left and chasing some creature from its nighttime exploration. "Real dumb."   
The fact that Jon's father had been indebted to the bank had come as a shock to him, a painful contradiction to what he'd always thought. His father's mantra of self-reliance and financial dependence had been engrained into everything Jon did, a real comfort in hard times. Something to look up to. To find that Richard Kent had not been so true to his own convictions…   
He had revered and loved his father, and Luthor Junior had just trampled on the man's golden memory. And his wife was defending the little jerk and his duplicitous tactics.   
Just what had gotten into Martha lately? Standing up for the spoiled kid, telling Jon to give him a chance, making him allow Clark to accept that damned limo ride and tickets with that look; the look she always gave him when she thought he was being unreasonable.   
_ Unreasonable? Unreasonable?!_, he thought angrily. _It's like living with Luthor cheerleaders all of a sudden_.   
_ ---"Give the boy a chance."---_   
_ ---"He's my friend, Dad."---_   
_ ---"'_They_' is Lex's father, not him. Be honest. You've never seen him be anything but generous."---_   
_ ---"You don't know him."---_   
_ ---"He's been a good friend to Clark."---_   
_ Good friend. Right. For how long? The little turd._   
"Human carbuncle," he added aloud.   
It boiled his blood to know that Martha and Clark, usually his insightful and keen loved ones, had been deluded into thinking that Lex was more than just another self-proclaimed potentate ready and willing to turn on those of which had entrusted their privacy with him.   
He knew that no matter what, he couldn't explain the ways of the world to Clark, couldn't help his son by sharing his own past mistakes. He just had to let the boy go through life experiencing it via his own plights. He only hoped that "Junior" with the garage full of sports cars, infinite credit limit and the mansion on the hill didn't hurt his son too terribly.   
_ I'll kill the slimy, little twerp if he-_   
The sight before him cleared his mind and froze him on the spot, bewilderment monopolizing his facial expressions.   
_ What the hell?_   
He shined the flashlight on the metal bars of Luthor Manor's gate, warily and deliberately walking up to them. Two of the thick, iron gate bars were bent deeply at odd angles, touching the neighboring rods and creating a large crevice.   
For a moment he thought they could have been proof that his son had made it onto the estate, but Clark would have been more respectful of another person's property, particularly that of a friend's. Besides, it was too low to the ground, and the crevice was too small for his particularly large seventeen year old. As if someone shorter with a slighter build had made their way through.   
_ And they're…_   
He touched the bars.   
_ Cold. Like pure ice._   
This was not good, not at all, and he had the sudden debilitating suspicion that Shawn was more than just some teen out for a kill or two. The ice… The bent bars…   
He suddenly felt chilled, as if the ice was like a frozen leach invading the very marrow of his bones, and spun around to make sure that he didn't suddenly have the unwanted company he feared.   
He was alone. He turned back to the gate, transfixed.   
"Damn," he panted, recognizing the thrumming of his heart in his chest. He hoped that Clark was already on his way here, fearing that he would not be able to do a damn thing to protect anyone, including-   
"Shit! Martha!"   
Abruptly, he spun a hundred and eighty degrees around and ran in the direction he hoped his wife had headed.   
She had decided to check on the generator.   
The same generator that was the infrastructure of the last sign of trouble.   
_ Shit, shit, shit!_   
If it was even possible, he hated the Luthor boy even more. Didn't he know anything about chivalry? About the rules of life? In situations such as this, where danger and death loom, the men go down protecting the women. Period. No if's, and's, or but's.   
Of course, as a Luthor, Lex would have missed that portion of his upbringing. Women didn't register as things to be protected unless one was holding the key to his family vault or his personal deposits.   
Jonathon sighed. He could blame the kid all night, but it didn't matter. It was his own damn fault and he knew it. He should have insisted that Lex come out there with him and check the generator himself. Martha would have opposed but he could have quickly talked her out of coming.   
He rushed to the front door and looked to the crisp and frost covered grass, finding her footprints tramped into the ground. He breathed out in relief and ran forward, wanting to call out his wife's name but did not, heeding the warnings in his mind about attracting the wrong person's attentions. He could do no one any help dead, and he certainly didn't want to draw Shawn to Martha.   
Following that same vein of introspective pathos on safety, he flicked the switch of his little flashlight to the off position, and looked frantically in every direction for a sign of Martha. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

_ ---"Where did Shawn go?"---_   
_ ---"I don't know but I gotta get you somewhere safe. Hold on."---_   
_ He hadn't even cared that he was in danger as well._   
Lana Lang sat next to her boyfriend, struggling to find a way to console him, to explain the truth about the situation that she and Clark had been in, but without compromising her pride. How could he even think that she'd ever cheat on him? Yes, she had gone out with Clark on a non-date partially to get back at him for being so amnesic of their plans- plans that _he_ insisted on- but she also liked Clark, cared for him. He was always very sweet to her, very considerate and funny. The perfect gentleman.   
She tried not to notice the obvious crush he had on her and was ecstatic that, before Lex Luthor had bothered to meddle in the deal, he had started to pull away, clearly loosing interest. Then Lex with his charm and his life-long debt to her schoolmate- did anyone in Smallville _not_ know the heroics of Clark Kent on that fateful day by the bridge- had to interfere, had to try and help Clark get his way.   
It was clear that Lex thoroughly adhered to the adage that anything a Luthor set his mind to, he achieved.   
_ Anything except this, Lex. Sorry._   
At least he genuinely seemed to care for Clark and wanted his friend to be happy. She guessed she would have done no less than her all to make a good friend happy, it was just… She didn't have it in her heart for Clark. That was an artery strictly reserved for Whitney Fordman.   
She had seen the Clark and Lex talking outside the coffee shop earlier that day, and had tried not to be obvious about her watching them. Whitney had just canceled their plans to head to Metropolis, leaving her with a fairly routine, humdrum weekend to look forward to. She had been contemplating heading over to a friend's house when she noticed the camaraderie outside the window.   
It still struck her as the strangest of acquaintances: the wholesome Kent and the conniving Luthor, the virtuous farmboy and the world weary playboy. A perfect example of black and white, night and day. They even dressed categorically opposite of each other, yet they had a certain chemistry that was wholly undeniable.   
Could saving a person's life really attain you a permanent devotee? She didn't doubt what she caught from Lex's gaze when he saw Clark or even his tone when he spoke of the boy. There was fondness and sort of a safeguarding aura to the young Luthor. If anyone dared to threaten Clark in any shape or form she'd no doubt that he would be there toting sword and shield, defending his protector.   
This, of course, was why it made perfect sense that Lex despised Whitney so much. Lana internally grimaced at the thought of poor Clark hanging on that post out in the cornfield and Whitney's part in the plot. Her steady was very… territorial.   
_ At least he's sincerely remorseful about doing it._   
As she had watched the discussion that morning outside the coffee shop with a vague, comfortable curiosity, she had seen Lex offer the tickets and look to his watch, then had seen Clark bolt back inside. The boy sat down and talked with her, and the whole time she had internally wondered if Clark was asking her more to impress his affluent young friend than to really get a date out of her. This curious observation had been later reinstated as their short ride in the limo had seemed awkward and stilted, like they both had other people on their minds. And she had.   
_ Whitney._   
She loved him with everything her sixteen year old heart could give and, despite what Lex ventured to believe, Whitney loved her back. People only got to see the jock side of him, the sometimes careless, forgetful and thoughtless side of him. She, on the other hand, got more. Every day. He was as sweet to her as anyone- even Clark- could ever be, romantic to a level she didn't believe another capable of attaining, and his eyes… His eyes turned her knees into Jello and her heart into a _Stomp!_ concert every time he looked at her with that unique mixture of love and-   
_ Lust._   
She blushed at her own thoughts.   
_ Yeesh. Not the time and place to get all… Well, blushy._   
Lana glanced over at the boy she cherished and it pained her to see such obvious fear of rejection and betrayal. Fear of losing her. Fear of her already being gone, falling in love with another. Her anger deflated as she saw sadness in those beautiful eyes, and she cursed herself for being so damn stubborn. She wasn't perfect; no one was. Placed in a 'visa-versa' type situation, she would have been just as upset. The mere thought of Whitney with another girl… It shot darts through her heart. And the helplessness she would feel to think that Whitney was losing love for her, that she was losing her place in his heart...   
"Oh, Whitney," she sighed. Not only did her voice attract the attention of her guy, but she also became the focus of vigilant, icy gray-blue eyes that had been staring out the study's window.   
_ Fine. It'll do him good to see this. I love Whitney with all of my soul, and once he gets that through his thick skull, maybe he'll stop pushing Clark Kent on me._   
She brushed the bangs from Whitney's eyes and caressed his face with her hand, genuine affection seeping from her. She was hoping that she could take away the pain she had purposefully caused. She hated fighting and feeling so angry and mischievous. It wasn't in her nature.   
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and her stomach, her shoulders and her mind all felt ten pounds lighter. "I love you and I'm so sorry. I was stupid."   
He shook his head and smiled at her, a real smile, and she almost wept with joy as the pain she was erased from that face she cherished so. "You could never be stupid."   
She smiled back at him and moved to kiss him as passionately as she knew how, letting her hand move to the base of Whitney's neck, the light pressure there begging him to just, please, kiss her back. And he did, causing her skin to heat. She felt the pressure against her mouth as he sat forward to kiss her, and she parted her lips, letting him in. She was surprised at the sudden ferocity of his kiss, knowing that there was a heavy amount of relief there, all thanks to Whitney realizing that his girlfriend was his and he didn't have to worry about any other guy.   
_ Ever. You don't have to worry, _ever_, Whitney_.   
"I'm going to relieve myself and find another light source," came a cold, hostile voice. Whitney and Lana parted awkwardly, and she looked to where Lex was stalking across the room. He tossed his flashlight onto the couch for their own use. "I'm sure you two can find _something_ to do to entertain yourselves until I return."   
He opened the door and slammed it behind him, startling both the teens. Lana knew that he wanted her to give Clark a chance, but this? He seemed to want it more than Clark. And the anger? It had to be because of the cornfield incident with Whitney and Clark. Sort of a _"How can she kiss that guy?"_ issue. It made no sense otherwise.   
Or did it?   
"What's his problem?" asked Whitney, flabbergasted at Lex's behavior.   
Lana shook her head and cupped her hand around his face, shyly bringing his gaze back to hers. "It doesn't matter."   
She watched Whitney catch the heat that she was making more than evident in her eyes. He was clearly surprised at the sudden change in his girlfriend. In the entire two years that they had been dating, she had always been very timid when it came to things of a more libidinous nature. Realizing tonight that Whitney's happiness was more important than her own pride… Well, it made other things seem less important to her. And a few things _more_ important. Like intimacy.   
He opened his mouth to say something but she covered it with her own. She felt his sharp intake of air and knew he was becoming more and more astonished at her actions, but quickly felt him responding to her.   
She smiled into the kiss as his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. _Apparently he kinda likes my advances_. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. Stupid._   
As a Luthor, he had been trained since birth to hide his emotions, to mask his contempt, disagreement and anger. After all, he was a financier, basically a salesman, selling himself by name. You can't afford to lose your cool when negotiating, especially not when your surname carried so much god-damned weight.   
Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to be that seigneur tonight, when he needed it most, needed to hide his real motivations and reactions.   
_ Stupid_, he thought. He couldn't believe that anyone could be so blind, so ignorant of such sincerity so close by.   
Loyalty. Devotion.   
Love.   
_ Anyone in the world would fight for just a little part of that, _he thought. _Whatever she feels for Whitney, it's nothing compared to how Clark could make her feel._   
He would know. He'd been brave enough from the beginning to open his eyes to the emotions that Clark caused. Emotions that other men would have run screaming from. Lex fathomed life cruel enough without complicating it further by going against the grain of his own soul. It was practically impossible to find someone to hold you and accept you in this world. Why take society's word for what's right and wrong; the same society that was slowly tearing itself to shreds over acceptability. No, he wouldn't buy into that. What he felt was what he felt, whether or not it was a little difficult to come to terms with. That was life, right? Life for him had _always_ been hard to come to terms with, so this wasn't all that new.   
Of course, it didn't escape him that what he felt was completely one-sided, but it didn't lessen any of the emotional hold that the farmboy had on him either.   
_ How he makes me feel without even trying is…_   
He sighed.   
_ His eyes always show too much of his soul and so openly to any that he deems trustworthy._   
Lex had walked away from Clark the first time he realized the boy honestly trusted him. He had seen the unguarded virtue in those eyes and almost lost his composure. No one trusted Luthors. They weren't dependable. So why did Clark seem so sure that Lex was different?   
The second time Clark had given him that look, the need to kiss those beautiful lips had gotten so overwhelming that he hadn't been able to breathe, and he had turned and walked away again. He didn't want to seem rude, so he beckoned for Clark to follow, but had kept distant from the boy's ever-constant touch. Clark didn't know just what his fingertips elicited in the young Luthor, and Lex didn't _ever _want to end up showing him, much less so spontaneously and in the middle of 3rd and Main.   
_ It would be complete bliss if she'd just take a chance with him. How could anyone look at Clark and _not_ see utter perfection?_   
Lex opened the door to his bathroom and slammed it behind him, not caring if the sound carried back to his study. Maybe, if it did reach the two osculating youths, it would startle some sense into the little strumpet.   
_ Right. She's as much a strumpet as you are an angel. You're just mad that she could have what you can't and _**simply doesn't want it**.   
Mad? Damn straight he was mad. He was seething. But why? Well, he hated to see his best friend hurt or want for anything, and it seemed that Lana was the only entity in Clark's life- other than Jonathon Kent- that seemed to be giving the boy any trouble at all. So, Lex had decided to show the boy that he loved him the only way his twisted, emotionally incapable mind knew how: give Clark his desire.   
_ Give Clark his desire and hope the entire time that he'll realize not only why you're doing it, but that _you're_ the one for him, not Lana, Lana, Lana._   
He flushed the toilet and moved to the sink, turning the faucet on with a little more vigor than necessary.   
_ That's not why your seething, Alexander._   
To be candid, he was less upset with Lana and more with himself. More with the relief that had washed through him when Lang had initiated the lip-lock with the dumb jock. She probably really did love him, for whatever inane reason, which meant that once Clark realized this, he would be in need of some consoling.   
"You're so fucking disgusting." he groused, but couldn't deter the hope that Clark would come to him in his time of need. Lex was desperate for Clark's company, no matter what the subject matter at hand entailed. He would never make an inappropriate move on Clark; he respected him too much and needed that Kent presence.   
Clark had given him something only two other people in the world had given him before: life. However, the difference between the farmboy and his parents- ice-queen mother and obsessive-tycoon father- was Clark actually seemed to appreciate the life that was Lex, seemed to actually care how Lex led that life. The first person to genuinely worry about him and to show that concern without reserve.   
_ So you fall all the harder._   
He shook his head. "Imbecile."   
At least he had given his all to grant the boy his little brunette. Lex had been one-hundred percent sure- though certainly not at all happy- that his plan to get Lana and Clark together would work. The limo and the concert, just the two of them all night in the shimmering city that was Metropolis…   
Surely, Clark would have been brave enough to make his move, still maintaining that innocuous persona, and Lana would have fallen instantly in love with him.   
_ One damn kiss was all it would take._   
He had been so positive it would work because he knew that- had he been the one on the receiving end of those silky, dawn-tinted lips- he would have died at that very moment so pure, cleansed by Clark's kiss and his kiss alone, that God himself would have begged a Luthor to join him in the above and beyond.   
Lex unconsciously ran his hand over his bald plate and watched the reflection in the mirror before him do the same. He would have said no, of course, choosing to stay and become Clark's guardian angel rather than live in a heaven that, without Kent, would have surely been as tormenting as the deepest, darkest levels of Hell.   
_ Christ, you're so fucking melodramatic._   
That Lang would see in Clark's eyes what Lex wished would be directed towards him, he had no doubt. The two would fall in love and he could at least be happy with the fact that his Clark was finally contented, pacified with the one thing previously out of his grasp. Lex would have been gladdened with the knowledge that, in a small way, he was partially responsible for Clark's romantic and sensual bliss. But, alas, Kent had left Lang at the Beanery, and had again foiled fate's plans.   
_ Fate says he and she are not meant to be. That leaves he and y-_   
"Shut up!" he told himself, not daring to meet the eyes of his glass counterpart. "Such a fool."   
Fool indeed. With every breath he took while near the boy, his life became calmer, clearer, and more peaceful. The only problem with this was that he was quickly falling head over Gucci's for the raven-haired youth of whom was completely oblivious to his attachment.   
_ Would it even matter if Clark did notice?_   
No, because the kid would just go on pining for Lang, never speaking to the Luthor offspring again, and Lex could not have that.   
_ Stupid._   
Humph. Maybe there was someone just as stupid as Lana. Him. She didn't want what the heavens had deemed fit to offer her, and he desired that which would never be offered.   
_ We're both stupid, insipid morons looking for love in the wrong places._   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


** To be continued... [CHAPTER TWO: Warmer]**


	4. Chapter Two - Warmer

TITLE: Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "Cool" (CHAPTER TWO - Warmer)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
GENRE: Action/Adventure, Suspense, Itty-bitty Angst, Romance and Horror   
PAIRINGS: JK/MK, LnLg/WF, CK/LxLr.   
RATING: R [for language, violence & sexual content]   
SUMMARY: Farther in.   
FEEDBACK: Gimmesummore! Pwease? Will work for food... Word candy that is, with ginseng extract if possible ;)   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
AUTHOR'S THANKS: Of course to my go through guy, Lyle Brown and **my Beta Reader, Fernando (FaItHzAnGeL). In my mind he deserves the awe granted towards small deities. In the words of Mike Nolan [_Glory Days_]: "Wow. I mean wow. Wow. Just... wow." [sucky show, btw!!] Fernie had this back to me _the next day_... THANK YOU SO-SO MUCH!!! Who's the man?!**   


* * *

  
**Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "_Cool_"**

**CHAPTER TWO – Warmer**   


_ Going in the front door_, Shawn thought bitterly, _would have been the smart idea_.   
He had taken the heat from the generator in both desperation for a little warmth and in the hopes that some servant of the Luthors would come out and try to fix the damned thing. He'd planned on following the guy to whatever servants' exit he'd come from, use him as a human heater, then walk in undetected, thereby gaining access to whomever lie in expectation of the restoration of accrued power.   
After waiting ten minutes for someone, _any_one, to show- being almost completely frozen made you too fucking impatient for anything much longer- he just took off, deciding it was better and quicker to find a back door because _surely_ the Luthor mansion had a working security system, and he'd rather remain unannounced.   
Shawn smiled as he walked brazenly back the way he came, heading to the anterior of the mansion. He'd realized, albeit a little on the late side- maybe the cold had slowed his thought processes- that the odds were great that the security system, at least during an electrical failure, would have been wired into the main power source: the generator. That and that the back door was just as likely to have an alarm as the front.   
The manor would most likely be relying on manpower to protect it, and as rich as the Luthors were they probably thought their defense was better than it really was. He figured that rich people probably overlooked the little things, mostly because they hired someone else to think about them.   
He slowed, looking at his surroundings and beginning to get pissed. The castle was too fucking big. He didn't remember walking this far. He was still minutes away from the front door. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Martha, like an idiot, turned and inched towards the noise, feeling like some teenage bimbo in one of those idiotic flicks that Jonathon had taken her to see during their courtship so long ago. Technically, she hadn't actually seen much of the movies, spending most of the time in Jonathon's embrace, but she remembered enough to know it was never good for the person who had decided to go investigate instead of run. She knew she had two things going for her, though: she didn't have the gorgeous model face or body that would've otherwise made her an instant victim, and she could be darn tough.   
_ Does that make me the heroine? _she thought hopefully but without mirth or conviction.   
Approaching the area where she was sure the sound had originated and sensing her on-screen massacre close at hand, she turned slowly around, keeping the flashlight in front of her as she looked and staying tense, ready to run or fight.   
The large bush beside her shook and she vaulted back as a large, greasy, pale-brown cat jumped out and pulled back it's ears, hissing at her. Martha laughed, relieved, and bent down, offering her hand to the animal. In return, it swiped at her with a dirty paw, the sharp talons slicing away at the tender flesh of her palm. She gasped, wincing as she pulled her hand to her chest and the cat took the opportunity to run back the way that Martha had come.   
"Ouch," she muttered, and checked her hand. There was a deep cut right in the middle of her palm, and two more superficial cuts to each side of it. The deep one was already starting to bleed profusely, making her uneasy with the gash. She dug her hand into her jacket pocket extracting the yellow bandana, always handy in case she became sweaty with farm work. Now it held the blood in, quickly staining red as she tied it tightly around her open wound.   
A high pitched screech echoed all around, causing her to spring back into a tree and drop her flashlight to the ground.   
She breathed in. _Dumb cat_, she thought nervously, and bent down to pick up the light. _What scared it no-_   
Just as she grabbed the light, the brown blur sped past her in the direction of the lake, hell-bent.   
She stood up slow and easy. Cautiously raising her hand, she shined the flashlight in the direction that the cat had come. For a second she just stayed, frozen to the spot. Then as if picking up in mid-run, she turned around, taking off to her right, hoping to double around who or whatever was headed in her direction, and back to the front door.   
Hearing another pair of feet trampling the ground behind her, seemingly faster than her own sprints, she ducked between and maneuvered around trees, trying to avoid the stinging slap of twigs, needles and thin branches on her arms, legs and bare face.   
She cried out as a low hanging limb as thick as a wooden beam hit the top of her head and instantaneous tears welled up in her eyes, her breath hitching violently. She could hear urgent, frantic whispers behind her, scaring her senseless, and did not try to make out the words. Instead she focused on the clearing ahead, of which she could now see. She sped up, her legs now pumping angrily, only to be tripped right outside of the clearing by a massive extrusive root. She fell to the ground, breath vanishing and her entire body whipping forward from the impact.   
_ Oh, God! _She tasted dirt, hearing the person in the woods getting closer. Internally yelling at herself to get up, she spit out the grit and tried to stand, lightning shooting before her eyes as she did. Her right leg was aching like the devil. She struggled to lift it only to find that she had landed on a very large, very sharp rock. She started to crawl, feeling pathetic and desperately afraid.   
Whatever was after her broke free of the brush and she could hear the hoarse whispers behind her. Then strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders. "Martha!"   
Without registering the familiar voice, she struggled free, rolling over and, without thinking or seeing, swung her flashlight at the person above her. The glass from the face of the light burst, the metal connecting hard with something warm and solid. She watched her husband reel back with the force of the impact then fall back to the ground.   
"Oh, God! Jonathon!" She crawled over to where he was, ignoring the burning pain in her leg and touched the side of his head lightly. He winced at her touch, hissing a little.   
_ No blood at least. _"I'm so sorry."   
He gave her a weak smile. "I guess I'm lucky it wasn't my face."   
She frowned. "You're lucky I didn't have something worse than this," she said brandishing the flashlight at him. Her face was sore from the branches and from where it hit the ground, her chest hurt from the labored breath she had induced while running faster than she ever had in her life, and her right thigh was throbbing wickedly. "Why didn't you call out?" She hit him hard in the arm with the flashlight then fell to the ground beside him. "You scared the shit out of me, Jonathon. Fuck." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Jonathon was stunned and not just from the substantial blow he had received. He'd heard his wife say 'fuck' before, but only a handful of times, and they were always incredibly serious and never once aimed at something he'd done. The time that stuck with him most was when a still mute Clark, only five or six, had gotten into the barn and stood looking at the sky from the loft. When Jonathon and Martha walked up to see if they could get him to bed, they had startled the child and he had fallen to the ground outside. Jonathon had to grab his wife before she ran after Clark, falling just as he had. He remembered the amazement and relief when they ran down to the bottom to find their little adopted son trembling, brushing himself off and staring angrily at the barn.   
He hadn't liked falling.   
_ Oh, Martha, baby. _He propped himself on his forearm and looked to his wife, shocked to find tears. He stopped a mobile one with the tip of his finger. "I tried whispering, but…" He trailed off, then spoke again more softly. "I'm sorry."   
"I thought I was dead."   
He tried to breath in deeply but he couldn't, his chest feeling hard and empty. "I didn't want to call out because that might attract attention."   
"And you think all that running didn't-"   
He interrupted by running his hand over her stomach soothingly. "I was afraid of losing you. If what I think is going on _is_ going on, then I can't protect you from that schoolboy, Martha. And if-"   
"What do you think is going on?"   
He looked at her for a moment. "I think it's someone like Tina or Greg."   
She frowned, confused. "What do you mean by 'like Tina or Greg'?"   
"Strong," he started, confused himself. He wasn't sure just what he meant. "Different, you know?"   
"Effected."   
He nodded.   
"But why? Why would you-"   
"The bars on the front gate. I think- I think Shawn bent them back."   
Bewilderment and fear registered quickly on her face. "Oh, no. Are you sure it wasn't-"   
"Clark's big and the hole indicated someone of smaller statute. And the bars... They were freezing, like ice." Martha's eyes widened and he ran his hand over her stomach again, stopping her before she said another word. "If it was my fault that he found us- that he found _you_, I'd die before he could even touch me."   
Martha softened and her hand smoothed over his cheek. "Oh, Jon. You just scared me, that's all. I'm sorry. I just hate being-"   
"Weak?" He nodded. "I know the feeling. The fact that we have to rely on our seventeen year old son for safety…" he shook his head not able to find the words.   
Looking back in his wife's eyes, he found deep comprehension and he was overwhelmed with the fact that she was still alive. He reached his hand to glide up and down her side, and pulled himself over to his wife until he was right above her, bracing his weight on one elbow. "I'm glad you're not scared of me anymore," he said, flashing her a wide grin.   
Her hand slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him close. "Oh, I didn't say that, Kent."   
The kiss was chaste at first, more in gratitude of being alive than anything, but Jonathon's passion grew as he realized what he could have lost. He pushed against her mouth with sudden fervor, and she whimpered in surprise, opening to him. He kissed her hard and pulled himself closer, hand traveling up her side and stopping briefly to squeeze her breast, eliciting another whimper, this one in pleasure. His hand then continued it's journey up to her collarbone and the graceful neck he'd always found so delicious, to burrow itself in the cinnamon and vermilion mixture of hair.   
She pulled him closer and he moved one of his legs in between hers, looking for less awkward access to his wife's mouth. He felt her shift against him, and then she yanked her head back to the ground, gasping in pain.   
"What?" he asked in alarm, pulling back quickly and glancing at his wife. "What'd I do?"   
She shook her head, her jaw clenched firmly, and pointed to her right leg. He looked and saw nothing but realized that she must have hurt it while running away from him.   
"Let me help you," He pushed himself to stand up, flooding all over with the guilt of frightening and hurting his wife, the woman he'd die to protect, the one he'd been running to, trying to keep her from being hurt in the first place. He bent over and grabbed her around the middle, hands slipping around to her back and her own clutching his arms. He lifted her to her feet swinging her arm around his shoulders and keeping a firm grip on her waist. "Can you make it back to the house or do I need to-"   
The 'say it and die' look his wife gave him made him laugh. "Didn't think so."   
_ Guess no "knight in shining armor" moment, carrying away the damsel in distress. _They started to walk at a brisk pace, eager to get inside, and Jonathon tried his best to stop the knives at his heart every time she stepped on her right leg, grimacing.   
"Jonathon?"   
"Yes?"   
Martha looked to be concentrating hard on her leg and trying to work something out at the same time. "The bars were frozen?"   
"All covered in ice."   
She nodded, frowning. "So was the generator. And there was a handprint right in the middle."   
His heart stopped at the thought of his wife so close to where Shawn had been last. "Damn it! I should have _made_ Luthor come out here." He sped up a little before remembering she was using him as a crutch.   
"I didn't give him that choice, Jonathon." He opened his mouth to say something his brain hadn't even completely formulated but Martha, knowing him well, put her fingers to his lips. "Please don't make me mad at you for some old-fashioned chivalry. Not now."   
He swallowed his pride and decided now was the time to ask the question that had been on his mind the moment he'd found Martha. "Why were you in the woods?"   
She hesitated. "I… heard a noise."   
He stopped and looked down at her, stunned. "What?! You heard a noise and you what? Just decided to check it out?"   
She tugged on his arm. "I know it was stupid of me, okay? Can we keep moving? My leg's starting to warm up a little."   
He pulled her along with him carefully, furious that she would have risked her life so. "Who follows a noise in the woods when they know a killer's loose? I don't care if it is a teenager." He shook his head and looked at her, sarcasm permeating his aura. " Tell me it wasn't some twig snapping."   
She winced, this time not from pain.   
_ It was._   
"Christ, Martha!"   
"I know, okay?" Exasperated. The woman was exasperated. With_ him._ Of all the nerve-   
"It even felt stupid when I was doing it."   
"Then why didn't you run back to the house?" he snapped? "Or at least come and find me?"   
She sighed and used her free hand to rub her forehead. "I hope Clark gets here soon." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"He's not coming." Whitney's lips went back to kissing her neck. Lana could feel his tongue lightly licking her skin and she bit back a moan.   
"I think-", she paused to catch her breath. "-I heard footsteps."   
"Mmm-mmm," he mumbled against her.   
"Whitney."   
He looked up. "That wasn't him. Okay?"   
Lana hesitated, mouth open to say something then, seeing the glazed looking in his eyes, nodded her acquiescence. He took her mouth with his and started to weigh down on her, lightly pushing her to lie back on the couch.   
_ Uh…_   
Feeling vulnerable beneath him, strangely exposed but still okay, she let her hands fall beside her. He was kissing her so sweetly that she barely noticed his hand moving down from her shoulder blade and to her side, then back up her abdomen.   
She gasped, breaking their kiss, as she felt Whitney's cool hand touch the warm skin of her stomach and mentally tracked its deliberate progress as it pushed its way further under her sweater, traveling upwards.   
She looked up into Whitney's heated eyes and he smiled longingly at her before moving back to her neck.   
_ Feels so good._   
It did, but it felt weird, too. She was on fire everywhere, tingly and aware, but there was a tightness in her stomach, a tension that wasn't bad, but was uncomfortable and had to do completely with the location. She'd never gone this far and really didn't want to if there was a chance of Lex Luthor or either of Clark's parents walking in on them.   
"Whitney," she warned. His hand stopped on her lower ribs, fingertips brushing the bottom of her breast through her bra, and she was surprised to find her body anxious to feel it reach its destination. "I don't want him walking in on us."   
"This is same guy you saw skinning dipping in the pool with some girl when he was how old exactly?"   
"It wasn't just skinny dipping."   
"Do you think he's going to care?"   
_ Strangely enough, yeah. A little maybe._   
"_I_ care."   
He nodded, pulling away. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just-" he stopped himself there, sitting forward towards the fire and wincing as if he were in pain.   
She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. "What's wrong?"   
He blushed, turning away from her. "It's- it's nothing, Lana."   
"No, it's not."   
"Really, it isn-"   
"Whitney," she said firmly. "What is it?"   
He looked at her and she frowned noticing the bashfulness in her usually indiscreet beau. "It's just… I'm a little…" he sighed. "Well, you know." She shook her head and he sighed again, clearly frustrated. "I'm a little sore."   
"Where?"   
_ Maybe I can help. A little massage might-_   
He flushed an even deeper red and pointed to his lap.   
_ …Oh…_   
She blushed too, letting him turn away from her. "I'm sorry."   
"Um, yeah. It's okay."   
Lana rubbed her hand firmly up and down his jersey-clad back and then moved to knead his tense shoulders.   
He pulled away and stood up, walking to stand behind the couch with his back to her. "That doesn't really help."   
"Sorry."   
She reached out to touch his arm, but he moved away again. "Just don't touch me right now, okay?"   
Her heart pounded in her chest. _Can just a simple tou-_   
He turned around and leaned over the couch, his elbows propping him up above her. She turned to face him, the ever-thoughtful part of her keeping her shoes off of the no doubt expensive material of the couch. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, Lahny."   
_ Hasn't called me that in months. Since this whole business with Clark started._   
"It's just we've never done…" He trailed off, but he didn't have to finish. The use of the pet name he'd made up just to annoy and flirt with her before they started dating- it had quickly become a romantic sentiment- and the fact that he had to stand behind the couch to recover his dignity… Lana suddenly wanted to be closer, wanted to be with Whitney in a more secluded place. In a more intimate position.   
_ It's a big mansion, Lana. _Every _room can't be occupied._   
She smiled and flushed at the idea, her already broad grin growing as Whitney had obviously caught the look. "What?"   
They couldn't do this; it was insane and they'd be caught for sure.   
_ Just do it. Do it now before you lose the opportunity. You've been wanting a little adventure, a little risk, right? Plus the chance to get closer to Whitney. To let him know you love him with all your heart. So… Here's the chance._   
She looked back to her boyfriend, eyes burning and he swallowed.   
"Lana?" he asked, warily amused.   
She grinned and sat up quickly, pulling his head down and moving into him. She kissed him hard, then pulled back.   
"Are you try-" He stuttered a little and backed away from the couch. "What was tha-"   
"Shhh…" She climbed over the back of the couch and giggled at the incredulous look on Whitney's face. She ran over to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the double doors. "Let's go."   
"Wh-Where?"   
She turned around and leaned against one of the oak doors, loving the rush of adrenaline, the excited flutters in her stomach, the crazy burning that she knew Whitney could increase then put out, but in the way that this kind of fire was meant to be put out. She looked straight into his eyes and said, "Someplace where we can be alone..." Blushing, she looked down and the wooden floor, unable to say the last part with his eyes searing into hers. "Together."   
A moment's hesitation, then: "Lana-"   
"I just want to keep going a little bit more, Whitney. Do you?"   
He cupped her face in his right hand, pulling her close with his left and he kissed her lips. She moved in even closer and felt his erection against her abdomen. He groaned and pulled back, smiling humbly. "Guess I can't say 'no'."   
"Come on." She grabbed his hand and turned around, twisting the knob with her other hand and opening the door. They both peered out, Lana expecting to see Lex right behind the door.   
He wasn't.   
"I wonder what's taking him so long."   
Whitney looked at his watch. "It's only been a couple minutes. Flashlight'd take him about five in a place like this, so… Maybe the bathroom's really far away. Or," he added with an amused tone, "maybe he had to do more than pee."   
Lex Luthor taking a dump was decidedly _not_ something Lana wanted on the brain at the moment.   
_ Or ever._   
She grasped Whitney's hand tighter and began to walk out of the room, still expecting Lex to come around the corner any second.   
_ Have to hurry._   
She sped up her pace, and Whitney followed. "Where exactly are we going?"   
Lana took a corner, carefully surveying it for the handsome, regal figure first, but luckily coming up empty. "Somewhere close enough to not get lost, but far enough to have some privacy." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Lex grabbed a very large, very long stainless steel flashlight and tried out the bulb, finding it as bright as a headlight.   
_ Good. The damn thing's heavy enough._   
He pocketed a smaller one just in case and left the third floor emergency storage closet, thinking whimsically that, in his months spent at the mansion, there were still scores of rooms he had yet to investigate. It figured that, of all things, an emergency would force him to venture into new territory.   
As he walked down the empty but fairly well lit- thanks to his mutation of a flashlight- hallway, he found himself incredibly thankful for his father's emergency protocol. It stated that in a power outage all staff members were to head to their respective rooms. He couldn't imagine the pandemonium and confusion it would have caused to have maids, cooks, butlers and such running around spreading the news about a killer teenager on the lose and all coming to him for orders.   
Of course, the protocol had also stated that security was to be doubled, but he knew that wasn't happening. He wanted to kick himself in the teeth for removing the protection they so desperately needed at the moment. No, severing the defense section of Luthor Manor's faculty as soon as Lionel had turned his back and let Lex run the place… Well, it had not been the wisest decision on the part of this Luthor scion.   
Oh, but Daddy dearest had his personal bodyguards, so what did Lex need an overprotected house for? Waste of money. Besides word would have eventually gotten back to Lionel and the man would have reinstated-   
Lex sighed, cutting off his excuses. So, he'd screwed up with the security. This was a minor problem as far as the breach went and he'd deal with it later. He was just thankful that it wasn't a more dire situation. A killer teen was bad, but not the worst it could get.   
He rummaged around in his pockets for a moment, looking for his keys as he approached the service flight. The stairwells were always locked during emergencies, cutting down traffic and diverting it all to the designated crisis paths and specified hallways. Only he and a select few members of the staff had access to them after hours and in exigent conditions.   
He found his keys and entered the service stairwell. Locking it behind him, he ambled down the steps, heading towards the second floor landing.   
_ Servants' Stairwell_, he thought abstractly. How the staff referred to the area as it was used solely by them.   
Well, solely by them and, on occasion, by him.   
He had recently become comfortable with the modest and economical stairs, the staff elevators and their… quarters. It was more fit to conduct private affairs within areas not so open to prying eyes. If you were the rich, reputedly spoiled son of a multi-billionaire tycoon, who would look for you among the faculty?   
He'd ventured down there a few times, drunkenly stumbling this way and that with Eliza, a maid that worked on the southwest wing of the mansion, the exact opposite of his northeast bedroom.   
The taste of sour and sloppy, alcohol induced kisses, the sound of expensive shirts and a too tight maid uniform ripping beneath passion crazed fingertips… Passions misplaced and fingertips that longed for the feel of another's body beneath them, a body that could not be found at that moment in time… It all filled Lex's memory and he grimaced. Eliza had wanted the assistant cook, Jackson Fairway, who was married and not interested. He had wanted, well…   
"Clark," he whispered to himself, and opened the servants' door, exiting and locking the stairwell, entering the hallway. The next one over and his office awaited him.   
He stopped and leaned up against the wall, not wanting to face two teens who might or might not be keeping themselves warmed and charmed.   
He thought instead of how surprisingly wrong Eliza had felt beneath him, how inaccurately her body had set against his. Sure, they had been more than anatomically compatible, but it seemed hard and distant, angry and solitary. The sex was quiet but for the sounds of their bodies making contact and frustrated pants at the end where he knew they were both wondering why the fuck the emptiness just _wouldn't go away_.   
Each time after they had finished Lex had merely mumbled a goodnight and left, the fact that the sex hadn't pushed their desires out of mind but instead increased the longing tenfold enforced into his brain. He'd never been one for post-coital care, touching, holding, _cuddling_. However, he could no longer ignore the fact that his arms longed to be wrapped around a large and muscular body, his hands feeling unworthy but nonetheless craving that impossibly soft and inky mane of hair. If he could just touch Clark the way he wanted to, if he could just portray all of these emotions, show the boy what he felt… Would it make a difference? Or would Clark, as Lex feared, turn away in disgust, leaving a devastated and broken Lex to long beneath his shadow.   
Lex had always felt worse, weak and unstable after a night with Eliza. Not to mention the fact that he felt as if he were cheating on that illusive 'one person he couldn't have. With every kiss, his eyes were closed imagining Clark's lips were on his even though he knew that they were too cold and narrow, knew that this was not how Clark tasted, didn't think that this was how the younger man would kiss.   
With every stroke and every fondle bestowed upon him, he couldn't stop his brain from throwing images at him, knowing that if he were ever granted such a seventh heaven of desires the hands skimming his body would be more caring, slower, a little nervous but sensual regardless. And maybe holding element of teasing. Instead, the hands below him were designed for one purpose, single and narrow-minded intentions laced with quick demand. And his were no different, spiting the woman below- and sometimes above- merely because when he touched her feminine body, he could not make believe that the molded form was his ideal.   
At the immediate end of each occasion he couldn't ignore the fact that a woman lay with him as they caught their breaths, a woman for which he felt nothing and the mutual feeling always hung heavy in the humid, post-sex air. Yet, he had gone back, again and again, as if looking for an answer.   
_ You thought that if you just kept digging deeper, you'd find it._   
He been exhilarated when Eliza, after almost a month of their trysts, had handed over her two weeks' notice and told him about moving to somewhere near New Hampshire. He'd seen the look in her eyes and knew she wanted out of this strange alliance before something in her broke as he feared would happen to him. So, he had let her go that day and had taken off in his Porsche hoping to "accidentally" run into Clark in town and steal a few moments with the farmboy before he went back to his perfect little everyday small town life.   
Lex cleared his throat and started down the hallway towards his office, his mind turning and turning, deciding something almost against his will. He hated pining, it wasn't a Luthor tactic, but more so, it wasn't a _Lex _tactic.   
_ Luthors go for what they want, damnit. And so will you._   
He'd never hurt Clark, never take advantage of the boy, and there was no way he wanted to lose the friendship that meant so much to him. But he had to tell Clark about his feelings, had to at least hint if not fully vocalize. It was hurting him too much.   
_ That's risking the friendship. Just because he's the only one that ever cared-_   
He cut himself off, knowing that he couldn't go through another Eliza, couldn't live through more apathetic sexual acts of enraged and frigid loneliness. _Wouldn't_. He'd never do that again, but that determination just left him alone completely and he didn't think he could handle that either.   
_ Desperation leads people to do stupid things._   
Admitting to his feelings was a very stupid thing, also unlike a Luthor, but hopefully not unlike Lex. The loneliness was driving him insane, as was the constant craving to just touch the boy whenever they were close. He already left his fingers to linger beyond what was normally accepted. Anytime he happened to find an excuse, his fingers would just lightly caress. And Clark had never once pulled away, or looked at him oddly.   
_ If Clark were a girl, this wouldn't be problem. _He smiled_. Of course, if Clark was a girl… Well, _a lot _of things would be different._   
He breathed in and decided to give Lana and Whitney a moment to ready themselves. He coughed loudly then let his footsteps fall heavy on the marble flooring as he approached then turned the corner.   
The door to the room was ajar.   
Alarmed, he quieted his advance immediately, turning his flashlight off. Flipping it around so he grasped the head in his hands, he steadied the base- hefty with double-D battery weight- to use as a weapon in case Shawn had somehow gotten in.   
_ It could just be that Martha and Jonathan are back._   
Lex didn't hear any voices and couldn't take that chance. He just had to make sure that he didn't make his tense relations with the Kents any worse by socking Clark's dad with a massive steel flashlight.   
_ Certainly would be tempting, though. Knock some sense into the bastard about the possible monetary aid I could provide._   
He breathed in again, flexing his grip on the light, and nudged the door open a bit more than it was, peering in. He half expected to see Whitney on the floor unconscious-   
_ Not a completely horrible thing._   
-and Lana being strangled-   
_ Okay, that one wouldn't be too good and Clark'd kill me for letting her out of my sight._   
-by a teenage boy he'd only seen on the news. Instead, he found nothing in the portion of the room he could see. He frowned pushed the door open the rest of the way, less wary. There was no one there. His worry was quickly replaced by incredulous anger. "Son of a bitch!"   
_ What the hell were they thinking?_   
That was just it, though: they were horny kids. They _weren't _thinking.   
"Fuck!" he hissed, and hit his flashlight against the soft wood of his study's door, only pissing himself off more as he saw that he had scarred the beautiful oak, denting it deeply.   
_ I can't even keep a couple teenagers from running off!_   
Lex needed no inquiry to uncover what they were doing, and in any other situation he would have found it humorous as he, too, would have taken off with a lover to pursue more desirable activities in the huge, dark and cryptic mansion. Thoughts of Clark and him making their way through the castle on a quest to discover the corporeal pleasures of each room fleetingly filled his mind, but disappeared just as quickly as he focused on the problem at hand.   
He had known from the moment he laid eyes on her that Lana Lang had a naughty side to her. Someone that angelic looking, who'd always been treated as if they were as fragile as blown glass… They always had a playful side, and he now knew his assumptions were legitimate. He was infuriated that he had left the two alone, but a single commiseration came to mind.   
_ At least she's not with Kent._   
It was highly possible that Shawn was near, even- and he shuddered to think that he had allowed his defenses to degenerate to this point- _in the house_. Lana and Whitney had no doubt put too much trust in the Luthor Manor's immunity to opposition and Lex's ability to protect them.   
So had he. At least he had when he thought that the security was just his father's way of flashing around his wealth and importance. And maybe it was then, but now the power was off and there were maybe all of _six_ security officers in the house, all hired to protect the help.   
Lex took off in the direction he hoped the teenagers went, realizing that firing most of his human shield had endangered his guests and could very well end up being a fatal mistake for someone.   
_ Melodramatic. He's just a kid for Christ's sake. What all could he do?_   
He remembered the news reports and the look on both of the Kents' faces when Lana and Whitney relayed their story of Shawn and the auto accident. Then when the generator went off. There had been genuine fear on both of their faces, and it was the dread he saw in Jonathan's eyes that caused him to speed up, listening for the all too familiar sounds of teenagers fooling around. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Clark ran the last hundred yards in his superspeed and stopped to slip through the bars of the Luther gate, instantly noting that he'd been beaten to the punch. The bars were iced and reformed.   
"Damn." He opened them just a bit more, slipped through the lower angle, and fixed them back, looking around. His heart sped up as he noticed that the house lights were off. "The generator." He took off as fast as he could in search of the power supply. Lionel Luthor being the billionaire he was, there was no way this castle wasn't going to have one if not more.   
He found the generator, surprised at how small and insufficient it seemed, and stopped to touch the metal and verify his suspicions. He could already see the ice patch frozen on top of the machine and what he assumed to be Shawn's handprint, but the fact that there was no hum, no vibrations emitting from it whatsoever… It was completely dead.   
He ran back to the entrance, opening the heavy door as if it was made of balsa wood and pulling it closed behind him, not making any noise with the exception of the slight click from the bolt as it slipped into the shaft.   
Looking to his right he saw that one of his many fears was confirmed: the security panel, locked behind as steel and glass cover screwed into the wall, lay dormant of its usual flashing lights, also dead. The system was evidently not hooked up to a separate source of power and it too had been feeding off the generator when Shawn had frozen the machine to the core, enabling anything electrically dependent.   
_ If he's already in here, then no one had any warning._   
"Damn it," he whispered, fearful. Shawn could be anywhere in castle.   
Clark was torn between scanning the place with his X-ray vision and just running through the mansion at top speed. Using his vision could be helpful, but it would take time as it was still relatively new to him and he hadn't mastered the muscles of his eyes. Every time he used the heightened vision it got easier to concentrate for longer and longer intervals, but it still eventually resulted in a short but eviscerating headache and a temporary inability to use the X-ray vision.   
"Think. Common sense." His parents were here with-   
"Shit!" He suddenly remembered his mother telling him that Lex had invited the community of farmers here for an informal chat about financial options. Clark knowing his neighbors and parents' farming opposition, there had to be _at the very least _twenty people gathered. Not including Lex, his staff, Lana and Whitney.   
Clark took off in the direction of Lex's study, thinking of all of the potential victims Shawn had at his disposal.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To be continued... [CHAPTER THREE: Closer]**


	5. Chapter Three - Closer

TITLE: Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "Cool" (CHAPTER THREE - Closer)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
GENRE: Action/Adventure, Suspense, Itty-bitty Angst, Romance and Horror   
PAIRINGS: JK/MK, LnLg/WF, CK/LxLr.   
RATING: NC-17 [for later chapters]   
SUMMARY: Even farther along.   
FEEDBACK: Much more!! Need more. Like drugs only more addictive and less expensive [sometimes].   
AUTHOR'S SIDE-NOTE: To _becs_: Smallville's actually not that small. It something that a lot of the fans have been a little confused about. The writers make it seem like a small town where everyone knows everyone, but then they give it a population of something like 45,000 people. So, twenty monetarily desperate farmers is actually a slight number. Also, sorry that I confused you about this story, though I honestly don't remember saying it wasn't going to be slash. Originally, the whole point of the alternate ending to 'Cool' was to get some Clex Sex written [then the action, story and plot ideas interrupted me]. This was when I was writing book one of _Absolution _and had no sex between the characters and REALLY needed to write it [horny Nymph!! ;o)] So, this definitely has got the slash, and it's keeping it!   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

**Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "_Cool_"**

**CHAPTER THREE - Closer**   


He opened the door, the handle instantly icing over at his touch, and he surveyed the dark, inert foyer. Yanking his hand away from the metal shank that had cemented itself to him, he listened grimly to the crisp sound of ice breaking as it filled the hushed, large and overtly magnificent room. He pushed on the heavy door, not even blinking as it slammed behind him.   
Shawn was used to the fact that even though he didn't want to take the heat from certain things, they still got cold after contact with his skin. Liquids, of course, were the worst, and he strayed from them like Lara Flamboyle fled from anything edible. Metals and stone were also pretty bad and he avoided them whenever he could. He hated having to avoid everything that was once touchable but there was no alternative to his seemingly ever-worsening condition. Not one that he foresaw, anyway. The only other choice was to be dead, and he didn't want to die.   
To be suddenly gone and nothing surrounding him; no thoughts, no presence, no vexing chill or gratifying warmth... Focusing on staying alive- it was what kept him going mentally.   
It scared him though to think that even if he did want to die, if he wanted to give up, that maybe he wouldn't be allowed.   
_Why the hell am I _still alive_?_   
Walking ahead, he ignored this internal contention and looked around only half-heartedly at all that Alexander Luther had at his fingertips, knowing that the spoiled young man probably never gave any of it a single glance; adornments of birth, the decor of ornate blood.   
After all, how often had he looked at the cat shit-stained carpets, the pealing wallpaper, the broken fireplace and the rusty furnace thinking he was damned lucky to have them in the first place. To the right person's eyes, _his_ house was the castle.   
_Anyone in a lower station in life is going to have a certain fixation on people and things above them- out of reach. It's only normal. And healthy._   
He shook off the jealousy, the envy and concentrated on things other than expensive furniture and suits of armor, Van Gough and the huge replica of David.   
Things like the chill, like finding people, warmth.   
Like the fact that he had drowned. It wasn't something you were likely to just forget or gloss-over as far as life-changing events go, especially since he hadn't _just _drowned. He had drowned and died and risen. All beneath the frozen fez of impenetrable ice. The weather and water had been so cold that his weight and eventual fall had only very temporarily placed a hole in the ice. Yet, he had broken the surface of that ice patch hours later and come out stronger, more vitalized, and-   
_Colder_   
Even his mouth was cold, tongue glossed over with a constantly shifting sheen of ice. If he were to move his tongue around [which took too damn much patience and exertion], it felt cold and alien to his mouth, like something was moving around in there that had nothing to do with him It made him feel uneasy and greasy for some reason, so he didn't move it unless he spoke.   
It had taken him a awhile to realize he was no longer swallowing, and that little insight both scared and elated him. He was becoming something that no other human was: independent of even his own body's needs. He was so much stronger now: all he had to do was find out how to stay warm indefinitely and he'd have it made.   
_ Even though I'm getting worse, I'm getting colder and it's getting harder to stay warm._   
He knew from his body's reactions that his internal temperature was well below zero, but how his blood, his _heart_, kept pumping- it did, didn't it?- he'd never be able to guess. He wasn't hungry, he wasn't thirsty, he didn't need to shit or piss or sleep. He just needed to get warm and rarely thought of anything but. Because it was getting worse, it was getting chillier, and harder to stay warm.   
He looked up at the ceiling, it's gorgeous vault-like stature, amazing glory of religious devotees on each tile. Clearly a hand-painted replica of some church ceiling. Shawn rolled his eyes in disgust just as his foot snagged on the edge of an oriental rug, sending him sprawling face first to the floor. He winced at the slight pain in his nose.   
_Fuck it._   
Another thing affected by being so damn frozen were his reactions: they were slower than usual, more stiff and jerky. He stayed there for a moment, growling, then moved his hands out to push himself up and abruptly stopped. In bracing himself, he had placed his right hand on top of the rug, and his left on the stone floor. It was this hand of which had caught his full attention.   
If a person were to place their ear to a wooden or stone floor, they could sometimes hear people walking around, music, etc from other rooms. Sometimes maybe even feel vibrations from people walking around.   
Shawn could feel heat.   
Not a heat he could take, not a heat that he could absorb into his body at that moment, but a heat that he could _trace_. A heat that formed a trail that he could follow.   
He could feel the whole house bursting with warmth just under his touch, but he couldn't yet make out the confusing melange. It felt like a jumble to him, like the first time he ever played Mahjongg.   
He thought of ants. Kick an anthill and the insects all come running out, panicked and in different directions. Shawn had placed his hand to the floor and felt it: little live wires running around under his palm, frenzied and scattered, with seemingly no order to the random and abrupt movements.   
Knowing this was his map to the heat- his body had become so conditioned to thinking about warmth, had become so attuned to seeking it out that he knew heat's every telltale sign- he pushed himself to his knees, replacing his left hand with his right, and reaching his left out to the wall beside him. He felt it there too, though not as strongly as from the stone floor.   
_Marble must be a better conductor than plaster._   
He stood up, abandoning the floor in return for the more convenient wall, and concentrated, trying to find the strongest wire, the most intense pulse. He guessed that the stronger it was the closer, and the weaker, the further.   
After a moment, he deduced that they all were fairly far away, a couple even on the second floor. He couldn't sense any higher, but-   
_What's that?_   
He could make out that one was almost infinitesimally stronger, closer than the rest and moving towards him at a comfortable rate. He let go of the wall and took off quietly down the corridor, replacing his hand after a moment to feel out the direction again.   
He turned a corner and quietly entered another room, shutting the door behind him. After a second, he could make out that he was in an immense dining area, decorated for some large banquet or such.   
He placed his hand back to the wall and focused hard, trying to pick out the previous wire.   
_Little confusing. It's getting a bit easier, but it's still gonna take some practice._   
Concentrating so intensely on the one line that Shawn almost let another pulse, bigger and stronger escape his attention. He redirected his focus towards the newer one finding that it was coming from where he had come from. The front door exactly.   
For a moment he stood, unsure of how to proceed as the new pulse had scattered his senses a little. He tried to concentrate on the newer, closer one, but found that it disappeared only a moment later. He thought for a moment. If either of the Luthor's were as smart as they were considered to be, they would have some sort of emergency plan for when the house lost power and it probably included reinforced security. The larger heat blip on his little internal radar was probably a police officer.   
Deciding that he didn't want to test his body's semi-invincibility with bullets just yet, he dumped trying to find the additional line and centered back around his original intent. There was more than enough heat in this house to keep him safely occupied without going after the security.   
At least for a little while. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

He grabbed for the door handle again and this time she saw he was clearly determined not to let go. "Jonathan, I said don't!"   
"We have to-"   
Martha shook her head. "Look at it. It's _frozen_."   
She watched her husband pocket his small flashlight and turn to her, grabbing hold of one of her shoulders and lightly caressing her face with the other hand. His palm, the one that had just jerked back from the handle at her hiss of surprise, was surprisingly warm. "There's no other way that I know of to get inside. You?"   
Frowning, she looked to the entrance. "No, but-"   
"Shawn's already in there, right?"   
Christ. "Well, yeah, if the door's any indication."   
He ignored her angry sarcasm. "Okay. Then how long before he finds his way to Lana and Whitney?"   
She winced and closed her eyes. _If only there was some other way..._   
"Not long. But how are we going to save them?" She looked up at her husband. "You said yourself that the kid bent the bars back on the gate, right? What can we do without Clark?"   
"Not much, Martha, but I'm not looking around for another entrance while he goes after the kids."   
She glared at him, chin trembling. "I didn't-"   
"I know, I know. You don't want to waste time either. The only thing we can do without Clark is try."   
She nodded, feeling sick to her stomach and wondering where the hell her strong, little boy was. "So, let's go."   
If her words were weak, the determination on her face must have convinced him that he had her full endorsement. He turned back around, grasping the manor's double doors with both hands and pushing down on the levers above the handles. There was a slight pop of cold and adhered metal separating itself within the lock, and he opened the wooden barriers a sliver, peeking in.   
Fully expecting the doors to be yanked open by a frosted teen with some bizarre power and her husband to be thrown to the ground, Martha grabbed Jonathon's upper arm and was greatly relieved when he relaxed within her grip.   
He started in.   
"Jonathan-" she said, worry staining her hushed tone.   
"If he's already in the house," he started. "-then he came here looking for people. He's not gonna wait around for someone to come in the front door when there are others spread throughout the house."   
"I know, I know." She winced as she followed him in. The pain from her leg was bad but not as agonizing as it first was. The muscle was warming up and loosening a little. "Let's just get back to the study and fast."   
She watched as he pulled out the flashlight and flipped the switch. Nothing happened. "Shit."   
"You've got to be joking." She ran her hands through her mussed hair, feeling leaf flakes, grit and knots. "Now we have to get there in the dark?"   
He bent down to the ground and tapped the light on the floor. Not even a flicker. Standing up next to her, he unscrewed the head and peered in. He looked up at her, faced contorted in anger and shoved the base in her direction.   
Wincing at the acrid smell, she didn't have to see the battery acid to know what had happened. "Okay... The batteries are leaking," she started carefully, softening her voice before she continued. She was treading on dangerous ground and her husband's pride was at stake. "It's not his fault, Jonathon."   
"'Not his fault'?!" he said loudly then, realizing the situation, muttered a curse under his breath. She knew he was angry at himself for letting temper get the better of him. "Not his fault?" he repeated, whispering harshly. "It's common sense to check batteries when you haven't used them in a long while._ Especially_ in emergency situations."   
"Common sense for you and me."   
"And Clark and every other occupant of Smallville and-"   
"And what? Put yourself in Lex's shoes. When was the last time you think he had to use a flashlight?"   
"I'm sorry, Martha." His vicious sarcasm surprised her. "I know I should be grateful that the spoiled kid could even find the damn things in the first place." Jonathan walked to the stairs and started up in the direction of the study, angrily tossing the flashlight to his left. It landed on carpet somewhere in the darkened room to the right. "I hope you were paying attention to the surroundings when you left, because I know I wasn't."   
She struggled to keep up, her leg burning like crazy. He had obviously forgotten about her little handicap. "You could have broken something with that."   
He shrugged. "Not like Lionel Jr. couldn't afford to replace it."   
His indifferent shrug inflamed her, and, despite her aching leg, she drove herself to walk faster, parallel with him.   
"It's not Lex's fault the damn flashlight broke." Silence greeted her words and, as they reached the top of the stairs, she knew her reiterated point had fallen on deaf ears.   
When they came to the second floor landing and turned to go up the next flight, he noticed her leg and looked chagrinned, but did not slow his pace. They were still trying to get to the unprotected trio in the study, and needed to get there as fast as possible.   
They walked up the rest of the way in silence and when they reaching the third floor they both went in opposite directions, her to her right, him to his left.   
"It's this way," she called out without waiting for him. He turned around and caught up with her, encircling her protectively with his right arm and bending down to kiss the top of her head.   
She sighed, fully aware of her stupid heart's reaction to the small gesture. He wasn't sorry for his comments or opinions, but he loved his wife and was worried about what Shawn's influence might bring to the night.   
_He can still do it after all these years_, she thought. _He can still take my breath away with the slightest sign of affection_. Her stomach had gone warm inside, turning her anger into mushy, goopy irritation, and she was opening her mouth to say something that would hopefully be deemed sarcastically lovable when down the hall the study door flew open. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Whitney!" she gasped, feeling his tongue in her ear. She shivered and pressed herself closer to him, backing him into the wall.   
They had been lucky to find the tiny closet just a few hallways away and on the same floor as Lex's study, feeling uncomfortable in the bigger, more elaborate rooms. Here she felt as though there was an infinite amount of privacy, no possibility of anyone watching.   
_Paranoid, Lana._   
It was also more intimate and forcibly close.   
Whitney moaned, his hands nervously moving down to rub her ass and she shivered again in pure delight.   
_The feelings he's causing...!_   
He moved to overtake her mouth, kissing her with raw and breaking lust that they had never before shared, and she held on tighter to the muscular shoulders opposite her.   
As his mouth broke away to find her neck, she felt one of his hands timidly moving up from her rear. Lana knew what she wanted, and she shyly pushed away from her boyfriend.   
He looked confused. "What did I-"   
Before he could finish she unzipped and pulled off her jacket, throwing it to the ground. He smiled, still unsure, and he took off his own. Lana grabbed the base of her turtleneck and pulled it over her head. When the neck of the shirt had passed her eyes, she saw that Whitney was staring at her body, eyes half hooded in obvious arousal, and she blushed.   
He looked up into her eyes. "C-can I?"   
She nodded, not sure just what he wanted to do, but anything was fine with her, as long as they were together and just kept going. She didn't want to ever stop.   
His forefinger reached out, shaking, and traced the bottom of her left breast. She panted at the incredible sweetness and newness of the situation. They were both virgins and Whitney had only been as far in his life as she would let him go. He'd always been loyal and patient and his eyes showed the longing he'd manage to control for the couple of years that they'd been together.   
Her eyes closed as she felt both his hands cup her breasts and his thumbs rubbed feather-light over the cotton material covering her hardened nipples. She giggled. "That tickles," she whispered, keeping her eyes shut.   
"I thought it would feel good."   
She didn't have to look to see the disappointment on his face. She knew the expression that went along with that tone and figured that his eyes would have held a little bit of embarrassed vulnerability.   
"It did," she said stepping into him, her stomach pressing into his erection. She heard him groan. "Here."   
She took his hands, surprised at her courage and fearlessness in telling him what he could do to make things better, and she pushed them into her breasts. He instinctively tightened his fingers and shifted his hands, the movement creating the much-desired friction against her sensitive and hardening buds and she cried out softly.   
"Better?" She could hear his confidence kick in and nodded.   
"Much." She pulled away, opening her eyes, but not quite able to meet his. "You can take it off it you want."   
He didn't have to ask what she meant. "You know I love you right?"   
She nodded.   
"And you don't have to-"   
"I know." She looked up at him, hazy and warm. "I want to."   
The next five seconds were a blur in which Whitney dropped his hands to her waist, spun them around, crammed her up against the wall and kissed her fiercely. She responded by dropping her hands to his waistband and tugging hard, driving his groin into hers.   
He broke away, gasping. "Lahny!" 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Clark!" Before his mother could even start to run towards him, he was there, a flash of obscure speed and light the only tale-tell signs of his passage. He gripped her small frame to him tightly, and breathed out in relief.   
When he had found the study completely empty he had almost fallen to the floor in utter despair. Keeping from doing just that was the fact that the room was _thoroughly_ vacant and not, instead, littered with the bodies of his neighbors, family and friends.   
And Lex. He was so grateful that he had not seen the body of his handsome, rich comrade sprawled frozen and inert.   
The study was a stupid place to start, an idiotic waste of time as it was too small to hold all of the farmers that Lex had invited. That was the problem with being as fast as Clark was: he often acted without completely formulated plans and well thought out motivations. It was just that Clark had been in so few rooms in the opulent castle and Lex's study had seemed like the perfect place to start. It was the place he knew Lex was the most comfortable, his own personal space in a large abode owned and dominated by his father.   
It had struck Clark how almost hopeless this whole deal was; that the group could be anywhere in the castle. Of course, Shawn could not have taken them all at once, but Clark had still trembled with worry at the thought of anyone but him up against his ex-teammate.   
Knowing his father and Lex as well as he did, he was so sure that some horrible showdown had already occurred where the two had tried desperately to get everyone out of the mansion and had foolishly tried to fight off the teenager by themselves or possibly with the help of a handful of farmers.   
Lex not knowing about the kid's superpowers made Clark even sicker to his stomach. At least his father, used to strange events and circumstances, would have a predilection to be careful, but Lex?   
_ Too bright and cocky for his own good._   
No matter how much Clark cared for the older boy, no matter how much he stuck up for him, he knew Lex had a stupid and stubborn side. Anyone that challenged a Luthor would, in Lex's mind, pay the full price, and someone threatening his guests in his own house? Threatening his own life? Clark knew that Lex would not take that kind of disrespect.   
His heart had restricted painfully at the thought of his friend, thinking himself so completely invulnerable-   
_ No matter what he says, I know the fact that he's still alive after the car accident just instills the sense of invincibility._   
-attacking Shawn, trying to protect anything that the lethal boy threatened.   
And now, even though he had his parents near, his mother thankfully and protectively clutched in his arms, he knew that out there Lana, Whitney, the farmers and Lex, _his_ Lex, damn it, were still unsafe.   
_So many things unsaid_, he thought and sighed again into his mother's soft hair, realizing he should have just kissed the boy in front of the Beanery. Lex had looked so cocky, so smug and so damned adorable.   
---"_The hardest thing in the world, Clark, is telling the girl you love that you like her."---_   
Every sexual innuendo, every physical hint, every heated look he thought he'd caught coming from the young Luthor's direction had come back to him in that moment. The boy's eyes were somber and serious and Clark _knew_ that he had been right about Lex's attraction towards him. He had later daydreamed about what he would have done, had society's pressures not been constantly upon his back.   
_"What about the _boy _I love?"_ he would have whispered, then grabbed Lex, pulling him close and taking that lovely mouth with his own. There was no worry inside that Lex would reject him. For a Luthor, he had yet to evolve his poker face past an amateur status, and wasn't fooling anyone- least of all, Clark- when he tried to throw a canvas over those hot liquid eyes.   
Clark knew that Lex was oblivious to his feelings. Years and years of hiding just who he was and what he could do... Well, it made a person better at lying, at stashing away emotions.   
His heart stopped, recalling just how sweet those feelings for Lex were, how happy he knew they could make each other, in each others arms- how long had he been dreaming of just that?- and he painfully realized that now it might be too late.   
He swore to himself that if it wasn't, he'd throw civilization's opinion to the wind for the companionship of the man he knew he could love completely and without reserve. Lex couldn't have been more right about destiny. He knew Lex needed him, could see it in the way the older boy drifted towards him whenever they met "by chance". The way Lex touched him, the smiles, the words... The fact that he was the only one that ever got to see the many different sides of Alexander Luthor.   
Clark just hoped he could make it obvious to Lex just how much _he himself_ needed the flippant, smarmy, older boy.   
Feeling his father's hand on his shoulder, he pulled away, keeping one arm around his mother, and looked to the man. With his free arm he embraced Jonathon just as tightly as he was his mother, creating a tight seal between the three. "I was so worried," he whispered, surprised that his voice worked and not at all ashamed of the weakness in the timbre.   
"We know, Son. We were, too." His father pulled back. "Is everyone else alright?"   
Clark let go, looking up. _What did he just ask?_   
"Because Shawn's in the house now. We don't know where, but-"   
Clark frowned and interrupted. "What do mean 'is everyone else alright'?"   
Jonathon looked at him strangely. "Lana. Whitney. Lex."   
Clark shook his head, barely even noticing the menace infecting the last name. "I don't know, Dad." He was beginning to panic. "Why should I know? I just got here."   
His mother looked more panicked than he felt. "We went out to check the generator."   
"And the front gate," his father threw in.   
"and left the three of them in the study."   
_Oh, god, what the-_   
Clark's thoughts trailed off as he looked more closely at his mother, putting a hand to her face. There were various cuts and scrapes, her hair was wild and tattered, and she looked frightened and in pain. "Did Shawn do this?" Rage was quieting his voice and making his stomach boil.   
"No, no. I- I got spooked outside and ran from your father."   
"What?"   
"It's a long story," his father started walking towards the study.   
Clark wrapped his arm protectively around his mother and turned. "There's no one in there, Dad."   
"Maybe they left a note." There was worry in his voice, but an angry growl that Clark couldn't understand.   
"I gave it the once over. There's no clue to where they would have gone." He turned back to his mother. "If you guys left Lana, Whitney and Lex in the study, then where are the farmers?"   
She looked down at her feet and took a deep breath, bringing her fingers to rub her temples.   
He knew that gesture.   
His stomach fell, not out of worry for the safety of the farmers- who he now guessed weren't an issue at all- but instead out of anxiety. He knew Lex too well and wondered just what his friend had done. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Lana felt his trembling hands on the clasp and she breathed in nervously. He broke their soft kiss to drop his mouth to her neck, licking and kissing and nibbling, while his hands slowly unhooked the bra from the back. She reached up and slid the straps off her shoulders, impatient to feel his athletically coarse hands on her sensitive skin.   
The bra fell to the ground. He pulled away to look and Lana wanted to close her eyes, but instead found herself fascinated at the heady look he was giving her body.   
"Lahny… You're so beautiful."   
She flushed and let her eyes fall closed, a little embarrassed but also happy that he favored her body.   
_See? Now being naked in front of him isn't that bad. It's actually kind of-_   
His hot, wet mouth clamped down around one breast.   
"Whitney!" she screeched and grabbed his hair with her hands, fingers ensnaring the strands and tugging roughly. His tongue flicked over her nipple and she gasped. She felt his laugh at her reaction and briefly thought something over.   
She could tease him in almost the same manner.   
_It would make him happy._   
The world told her she was a slut if she did it, a skanky little devil, but then again, she was already fitting that label by going as far as she had with him. And in a closet, no less.   
She knew that it was just the same as any other sexual act with a person that you truly loved and trusted, nothing degrading about making the person you love feel ecstatic and ravished. She could see spending the rest of her life with him, so wouldn't that make him the pinnacle?   
_Of course._   
She quickly and silently thanked Nell for her encouragement to not be afraid of 'sex and the one-eyed snake' though she knew Nell would very much _not_ approve of Lana's choice in timing and scene to take the advice.   
She pulled on Whitney's hair, reluctantly taking him away from her nipple.   
"What?" he asked, now very much confused. "I thought you liked that?"   
His words were slurred, his eyes were heavy and his skin was deeply flushed. He was more gorgeous in the moment, then she could ever remember him being and she pushed him towards the wall opposite the door. "I did, but I wanna try something."   
He shook his head. "I can't take much more, Lana." He looked away and she could tell he was overwhelmed with embarrassment. "You should get dressed, and just-" He swallowed thickly. "And just wait outside. I'll be out in a minute."   
_Needs release_, she thought, smiling. It was just the sign she needed to strengthen her confidence_._   
She kissed his cheek and resumed pushing him. "Close your eyes," she told him, her voice low and steady.   
"Lana, I-"   
Her hand slipped down the outside of his pants and she cupped his erection, finding a damp spot already forming on his jeans. His eyes shut instantly and he hissed, clearly trying to keep from thrusting.   
_He really needs this._   
"It's okay." She rubbed him adamantly and he responded by pushing into her hand.   
"I don't-"   
"I like feeling how much you want this," she interrupted. "How much you want me."   
His expression became pained as she pressed her naked breasts to his shirt-clad torso. "Please, Whitney. I just want to make you feel good."   
"You do, Lana. You always do. But-"   
"Better, then." They bumped into the wall and she kept massaging his hardened appendage, deeply enjoying the expression of anguished longing that was etched onto his face. "I want to make you feel _better_."   
"Oh, Lana- oh, please… Stop. You don't understand."   
She did stop rubbing, but only long enough to unzip his pants and slip her hand in and underneath the elastic of his jockeys. She grabbed hold of the hot and moist erection.   
"Lahny!"   
She moved her hand up and down once, awkwardly, then used her free hand to try and push his pants down. They didn't move more than an inch or two. "Help me?"   
He shook his head. "You d-don't… have to-"   
"I know. But I want to. You need this taken care of, right?" She squeezed him for emphasis and he jumped, whispering her name weakly. She panted. The control she found herself wielding was more than a little seductive. "I don't want you to do it alone. I want to do it for you." She moved her hand up and down his weeping shaft again, a little tighter this time. "Now help me." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

The hallway he was in was almost pitch black, save for the slight glow coming from the small row of windows a the very top of the walls. He guessed that the rich folk never bothered to come to this part of the house, for it was lacking in lavish and fabulous things. The thin, hard carpet was harder to sneak around on, but the tiny, cell-like windows gave him the perfect amount of illumination. It was quiet and, due to the curves and carpeting instead of stone flooring, sounds didn't carry as well.   
_Almost perfect for a soundless approach._ Shawn grinned as he neared the kitchen. This was where the wire of heat ended. And it brought him closer to the others.   
_This _has _been a pretty good night._   
He heard someone moving around inside, opening and closing cupboards, walking around, turning on the sink.   
He placed the toe of his shoe on the metal of the swinging doors, ready to enter when he heard a chopping noise. He stopped for a moment, pulling his foot away. It would do him no good to walk in on someone armed with a knife.   
After a moment, he raised up and looked through the pane of glass in the door closest. Finding it too dark inside to see that well, he pressed his nose up against the small pane of glass, rolling his eyes as the thin pane cracked under the cold.   
_Screw it._   
He kicked open the door and quickly moved into the dark, crouching on the ground behind a large table, waiting for his eyes to adjust.   
"Phillip? …Jackson?"   
_Intriguing accent._   
"I'm jahz taking some food-"   
_Italian. Hmmm…_   
"-up to the rehz of the girls, and…" There was a pause. "William?" The tone was softer, sweeter. "Is tha you?"   
He heard footsteps approaching the door and he slipped under the table, trying hard not to giggle. When he'd started out killing, he hadn't really wanted to, but it had been necessary. Then he'd found himself growing apathetic. Now, it was hard not to find everything funny.   
_Why not find it funny? There's no one whose going to say, "Oh, poor Shawn. Let's find a cure for the Killer Ice-Boy." They'd rather just shoot on site. Shoot first, avoid questions later. Smallville's license plate motto._   
Checking out the young legs in front of him, he reached out slightly and the woman, still a foot away from him, shivered, stepping closer to the door and further from him. He snickered at her reaction and she spun around.   
"William, dis is noh fahnny," she hissed. "I thoughd I say I'd be ri back. Told you to stay puh. Now why you follow me down ere, uh?"   
_Okay_, he decided with a grin and a nod. _No more Shawn. Just Ice-Boy. Just Ice-Boy that needs to stay warm and can have some _serious_ fun while doing it._   
"William?" asked the woman, becoming hesitant at the lack of response her chiding had received.   
"Nope," he whispered and saw the legs jump back.   
"Who's dere?"   
"Take a look, babe."   
The face of a young woman, a girl really at maybe nineteen or twenty, hesitantly looked under the table. Seeing him, she sighed in relief and offered him a hand. "Get out of zere, silly! What are you doing undah de tabahl?"   
Realizing that the dark of the kitchen and the shadow that the table threw on him obscured his hideous color and the ice constantly hanging from various facial extremities, he grinned and grabbed her hand, not yet sucking the heat out of her, but instead letting her feel his chilled flesh.   
She gasped. "Oh mio Dio! Lei sono cosí _freddo_!"   
The girl tried to pull her hand away, but he held on tight pulling himself up and finding himself almost a full foot taller. "I'm afraid I don't speak Italian, lovely."   
"Congelamento! Cold!" She was still trying to pull away. "You're so very cold." He let her go and she stumbled backwards glaring at him. Realization burned in her eyes. "You are not living here. Who are you?"   
Finger trailing along the edge of the island, polished marble top condensing around the farthest edge where cold met warm, he slowly made his way towards her. She watched the top freeze and fog over, fear increasing the whiteness around her dark eyes. "You don't watch much TV do you?"   
She said nothing but saw her glance towards something behind a large pot. He pulled his arm to his chest then slammed it into the pot, denting the side and sending it flying into a large metal cabinet at the end of the room. The young woman jumped back into the fridge, making him laugh before turning back to the stove in the middle of the island.   
A good sized flashlight lay on the dead burner. He grabbed it and flipped it on, shining it in her face. "This what you wanted?"   
She said nothing.   
"What's your name, cutie pie? Or should I say 'pizza pie'?"   
"S-S-Sermi."   
"First name or last?"   
"Fir-first," she whispered.   
"Well, Suh-Suh-Sermi, you really don't know _what_ the hell's going on here, do you?"   
"De power and de lights," she said moving to her right, his left, and away. "It went off and now we're lef in de dark."   
He chuckled, guessing that she was heading towards the knife he'd heard her chopping with only moment ago. "But do you know _why_ the lights went off he asked, coolly.   
He turned around the island and over the several sandwiches she had prepared, saw that Sermi was indeed headed to one of the countertops. He knew he couldn't get to her before she reached the knife, but he still had to stop her from taking it. He didn't really feel up to experimenting with painful stab-wounds, didn't really know if he wanted to see just how far his newly acquired strength went. He looked around for something to throw but all of the pots and pans had metal handles. They'd stick to him.   
_Shit._   
His eyes suddenly came to rest on a thick drinking glass, full of water, and an idea sprung to mind. He gauged the distance between him and Sermi as about seven, maybe eight feet. If he lunged just as she was putting her hand down on the knife…   
"You have to do wit de lights going off?"   
He flipped off the flashlight and shoved it into his pocket, then grinned at her. He shrugged in the best 'aww shucks' manner he could pull off, even scuffing his foot to the floor. "Maybe a little."   
He saw her hand moving towards the counter and he pretended to keep his interest on the floor. He had to time this just right. He knew that he was cold enough that the glass wouldn't last long before breaking and though the glass was full, it might not be enough to reach her.   
He tensed as he saw her hand inching closer to the cutting board. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

She let go of him long enough for him to push his pants and underwear down around his ankles, trembling a little as he did it. He stood back up, looking at her breasts, then her mouth and finally her eyes. His shaking hands whispered against the skin of her stomach.   
"Thank you," she whispered, glad that he had managed to push his pants down. "Now close your eyes."   
She had finally convinced him that this was what she wanted to do and he was acquiescent to her demands, far too gone to put up anymore chivalrous struggles. She let her hands travel briefly under his t-shirt, then down to massage his lower back, then his naked cheeks. It was the first time she'd ever touched his naked body.   
His whispers were constant now and she began to trail kisses down the cotton covering his stomach. She pulled the shirt up as she reached his abdomen and began to kiss and lick at the skin.   
"La-Lahny?!" He sounded shocked and pleased, scared and hopeful.   
"Shhh…" 

+_+_+_+_+ 

At the same time she reached for the knife he grabbed the glass and lunged quickly, tossing the water towards her hand. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Her kisses formed a trail eventually leading to his erection and she breathed in deeply, a little nervous.   
_Here goes._

+_+_+_+_+_ 

It had worked. The glass had shattered into only about a million or so pieces falling to the ground, but the cold from his hand had reached the water freezing it in a little half arch. Most of it stood up in the air, but it was attached. Attached to the cutting board and Sermi's hand, hanging. A gorgeous, delicate looking ice sculpture.   
She winced and tried to pull her hand back. "Oh mio _Dio_! _Per favore, _Dio!"   
"Yes, oh please, Dio!" he laughed, then immediately frowned, biting his bottom lip and putting his right forefinger to his cheek. "Um... What exactly is Dio, signoria?"   
She just glared at him, eyes becoming shiny, and frantically started tugging on her hand.   
To Shawn's very pleasant surprise the cutting board was actually _attached_ to the counter. He stepped up to the sculpture and touched it lightly with his forefinger. The top-heavy ice cracked, breaking off from its base and crashing to the floor.   
He looked to the girl's hand, still frozen to the cutting board under the base. She was too scared and incredulous to look away from it, until he grazed his hand against her warm cheek, leaving a shadowing trail of transient blue. She shivered, begging him with puppy dog eyes to just disappear.   
"Not quite what you were expecting," he said softly. "Was it?" 

+_+_+_+_+ 

She licked the tip his penis, just trying out the taste. He shuddered, moaning loudly, and she grinned. "What do you want, Whitney? Show me. Help me."   
After a moment she watched his hand move and felt it on the back of her head, ever so slightly nudging her forward, towards his erection; sweet, not wanting to ask for anything she didn't want to do, but she was offering, so he knew it was okay. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

This was not good, not good at all.   
_God damn you, Lex! Where the fuck are you?_   
Clark's parents were walking beside him, checking the rooms on the right as he briefly scanned the rooms on the left with his X-ray vision, head pounding almost as hard as his heart.   
He was internally torn. He knew that if he left his parents, Shawn could find them, but if he didn't maybe Shawn would find his friends before he did.   
_Lana? Damn it, where are you guys?_   
He knew they had to be safe. They had to be. If Lex felt the study was a risky place to be, he would have taken Lana and Whitney somewhere better, more reliable. He didn't leave a note because maybe he knew Shawn was in the house and didn't want to just invite the damned teenager along for the trip to safer territory, making the whole point moot.   
But why didn't he wait until John and Martha returned? Had he feared them already dead?   
Or had they been running away from a killer teen? 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Her mouth closed around the very tip of his erection and he shuttered, moaning, abrupt and loud and Lana wondered if he was fighting to hold back more.   
She took more of him into her mouth but was honestly clueless. The romance novels always stopped descriptions after _'she devoured him' _or _'she took him into her mouth'_ always going directly to what the guy was doing afterwards. She thought for a moment and teasing him with her tongue was the best she could think of.   
So she did.   
"God, Lana. God, just-"   
She started to suck on him a little and wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

He brought his hand down hard on the ice, hurting himself in the process; at the same time he'd shattered not only the ice on the block but the bones in her hand as well.   
The knife fell from her shattered paw and she dropped to the floor, curling immediately into the fetal position, shaking from so much pain she could barely breathe. Not breathing was good, because that meant she couldn't scream.   
He dropped himself on top of her and begin to stretch her body out, uncurling her limbs. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Whitney pulled her away from him and up, embracing her with one arm around her waist and grabbing her hand- still on his erection- with his.   
He nuzzled her face. "Do you still-" he started, strained and painfully on edge.   
"Want to help?" She nodded. "Yes."   
He rearranged their hands, slipping his fingers in between hers, and started to pump. It was a little awkward at first but she soon got the hang of it and started moving faster.   
"I can take it from here," she dropped a kiss on his lips and felt him let go. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Sermi struggled, twisting beneath him, trying to get away, but he used each of his four limbs to hold her down. As he did she felt the stiffness of his groin straining against his pants and looked horrified. She tried to struggle, but he had her down too tight.   
"no! no!!" she gasped out, trying to scream.   
He laughed at her assumption. "You know why it's so hard down there? Nothing to do with you, sweetheart, so don't worry. It's frozen stiff." He laughed again. "Can you believe that?"   
He thought for a moment, looking her over. Her face, her breasts, her slim waist and those _killer_ legs. Shame to waste them, but…   
_Ah, well._   
He grinned down at her, chuckling slightly. "Of course, if I wasn't so damn cold right now, you'd definitely be on my 'To Do' list." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Harder, please." He was begging quietly, but she could feel the urgency.   
She squeezed her hand around him tighter. "Faster, too?"   
He nodded and she increased her speed. She watched the expressions on his face. Knowing that she did this to him was amazing. He looked in pain, but she knew that she was close to taking that away and bringing him a level of pleasure that she had previously been afraid to give him.   
Now it was all she wanted.   
He groaned loudly. "I'm gonna- God, Lana!!" 

+_+_+_+_+ 

He squeezed her breast.   
"Allontanarsi da me!"   
He snickered. "Sure thing, honey!"   
She whimpered and he opened his mouth, licking her face with his dry, cold and ice-caked tongue, relishing in the fact that the warmth it absorbed turned his tongue back to normal immediately. Still a little dry, but the ice had quickly melted to give it a somewhat moist feel. He flexed it finding it stiff and sore.   
The girl shrieked, her cheek cold and hard. "Non uccider me! Lo supplico!"   
He shook his head, enjoying the tsk-tsking sound he was now capable of making. "Isn't a shame that the last words you ever spoke fell on uncomprehending ears."   
She opened her mouth, but he slipped his tongue in, kissing her quickly then pulling away. He winked at her, clamped his hand over her mouth and absorbed just enough heat to freeze her mouth shut. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"I think… Well, maybe they're- on the first floor?" His mother glanced to Jonathon who looked miserable and pale. The man just shrugged and they both turned to him questioningly, eyes asking him for further directions on what to do.   
Clark just wanted to scream, rip his hair out, pound the floor, and, most importantly, turn back time. Since when was he the voice of reason? Since when did he become the one in charge?   
_Since you started using your powers to help people. Since you realized you had the upper hand._   
He wanted to slam his fist into something big and solid and unbreakable. He was so very, _very_ worried about his friends, feeling cold inside and knowing something bad, something absolutely horrible was happening right this minute. He didn't know where, didn't know what, but he knew it was happening and that he would not make it there in time to help anyone.   
"Fuck," he whimpered. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

She felt Whitney start to shudder a little and then the semi-sticky warmth started to spread onto her hand in little spurts. She kept moving her hand up and down waiting for a sign that Whitney was through.   
"Oh, Lana, Lahny."   
"Do you want me to stop?" she asked quietly, still in new territory, uncharted land as far as knowing what he needed.   
"No, please, just a little more. And slower."   
"Okay." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Lex had heard the front door slam and he'd rerouted his course in the opposite direction, leading him back to the study. He was sure that once he got there he'd find everyone back inside and most likely irritated at him for taking off.   
_I couldn't _be_ that lucky._   
He was so fucking pissed off now... It had taken him what felt like an insanely long time, but he'd gotten back to his little study. Unfortunately, he was too late, finding the door wide open, no one inside. He wasn't sure if he had just missed Martha and her husband, Lana and Whitney, or the psychotic teen, but finding _anyone_ at this point would have been a plus. And had it been Shawn he could have pounced on the boy, beating his skull into the floor and thereby taking care of the single cause of chaos.   
He stepped out into the hall, looking left and right. There was no sign of which way anyone had gone, no sounds to follow, no ominous trails of blood or body parts. Infuriated, he swung his flashlight at one of the insanely expensive Tiffany vases that littered the house. He sent it sundering to the floor, hundreds if not thousands of little crystalline raindrops bouncing off of the walls and the statue across from him, falling to the rug and tinkling on the hard wood of the upper floor.   
He started forward. _Ugly little fucker._   
Seeing tiny pieces glinting off of his light purple sweater in the bright moonlight, he stopped, trying to lightly brush them off with his left hand. He only succeeded in adding several shallow cuts to his list of annoyances. They stung like acidic paper cuts.   
"Fuck!" He stepped farther into the light watching the whole front of his shirt glitter dangerously.   
He sighed. _That's what you get for losing your temper, Luthor_.   
He put the flashlight on the pedestal behind him, where the vase once stood in all it's intact glory, and pulled his hands into his sleeves. He carefully lifted the sweater over his head and shrugged it off, warily thinking to shut his eyes and mouth, lest any glass assassins made the decision to go airborne.   
He tugged the sleeveless undershirt down his stomach and back where it had ridden up, shivering at the touch of cold fingers to his skin. The custom cashmere with the thick inner lining of down had kept him warm, leaving him unaware until now just how chilly it actually was. His body heat was evaporating and fast.   
_This is utterly, fucking ridiculous. I'm gonna catch a cold. Just what I need._   
Tossing the sweater onto the floor of his study, he grabbed his flashlight with his unmarked hand and started forward again. He really hoped he could get to a fucking sink. He needed to get rid of the debris in his hand and soon.   
He flexed, trying the fingers and palm out and winced. He just knew that some of the shards were going to stay in there until he got fucking tweezered by Marcy, his in-house nurse.   
Raising his left arm to waist level, he kept his flashlight off for the moment, hitting his leg with it rhythmically as he walked. If he found the two teens and they were busy doing _any_thing but struggling in the process of being killed, he'd take them out himself.   
_There you go_, he thought with a vicious grimace. _Get violent with the flashlight_.   
Shatter Whitney and Lana just like he'd demolished the fucking vase. As it was, if he found them with this Kelvin kid, he might just watch him hack them up from the sidelines, giving the teen tips then profusely applauding his finish.   
_Here I am in my own house, _on my own turf_, with the possibility of a psychologically damaged teen running lose. I'm practically tiptoeing around like a fucking coward. Being quiet so as not to attract the wrong person's attention._   
"Mother_fucker_," he growled. This was insane. This was _his_ goddamned house and some stupid teen was not about to turn him into a little timid, craven recreant unable to find his what he considered to be his temporary charges.   
"Fuck this. _Lana_?!" he yelled, instantly feeling the premonition that this was _a bad idea_, but pushing it away. _Stupid fear_. He was a Luthor and Luthor's fought, they didn't run. "_Fordman_?! _Get out here, now_!"   
Silence.   
He swallowed, his bravery becoming unsubstantial, plunging from his mind and body alike.   
More silence.   
_Shit._   
Well, he hadn't been expecting a '_Yes, sir. Right away, sir,_' but something other than the silence would have been nice. Anything but the-   
_Silence._   
He shivered again, feeling goosebumps trail down his bare arms.   
_Cold and scared_, he thought, internally scolding himself.   
"Pussy," he said weakly, but couldn't shake the feeling that yelling out had been a very stupid move. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Okay, Lahny," he said sweetly. She let go and he grabbed her head, fiercely pulling her to him and kissing her. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and opened beneath his lips, whimpering in pleasure.   
"**_Lana?!_**" They broke away and looked anxiously to the door.   
"Oh, God!" she hissed.   
"Shit!"   
She looked to Whitney, panicked. "Was that- was that Lex?"   
He nodded, glancing at the door of the closet. "I think s-"   
"**_Fordman?! Get out here, now!_**"   
"He sounds close," she said worried.   
"Yeah." He frowned. "Do you think he _just now_ got back to the study?"   
She shook her head. "No. He must have tried to find us first. How long have we been in here?"   
He looked to his watch then back to her, wincing. "About half an hour."   
_Oh, God. Lex must be pissed. And-_   
Her mouth dropped open with realization. "I bet Clark's parents are looking for us, too." Muttering curses they both frantically began to look for their various articles of clothing.   
"We can't be caught coming out of this closet, Lana," started Whitney.   
She nodded, agreeing completely. They were already going to be in enough trouble for meandering around. She thought for a moment. "Okay. So we'll wait for a couple of minutes, just a few, then we'll head back to the study."   
He looked at her. "We went looking for the bathroom. I really had to go."   
She nodded, knowing where he was heading with this. She hated to lie but they really had no other choice. "Right. We waited for Lex, but you couldn't hold it, so we went together."   
He winced again. "We forgot the flashlight."   
"Not exactly the smartest thing," she agreed. "but we were in a hurry."   
"Right." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

_Up ahead_, Clark thought, trying to remember the layout. _Would be the guest library to the left, and the guest gym and Lionel's War Room to the right._ He also remembered that there was another hallway running parallel to them through both the guest gym and the War Room, but had never actually been through there.   
He silently thanked Lex for the mini-tours he always gave while walking towards the elevators, kitchen, garage, private in-home gym, or wherever. Still, he wondered just how much good they were gonna do him now. Lex had never specifically said, "And this, Clark is the most strategically safe room in the mansion. Yes, if anyone abnormally powerful and psychotically dangerous ever gets in and we're forced to run for our lives but stay _inside _the castle, this is where _I personally_ would go. You know. Just one of those quirky fun facts."   
So here he and his parents were: running through yet another hall, opening doors, calling out in whispers, trying to stay quiet when all Clark wanted to do was shout out to his friends.   
Okay, no, that wasn't entirely true. What he _really_ wanted to do was take off as fast as he could around the mansion and find them, but every time he was about to suggest that maybe his parents were right, that maybe it really was the only way to find his friends in time, they would hear a noise not to far from them. A creak, a whisper, a rip, a footstep… And every time Clark ran to investigate: nothing.   
He couldn't leave his parents alone to that. Not when he knew they couldn't protect themselves and he had no idea where in the house Shawn was. He had explained to Martha and Jonathon what he knew about the kid and was torn inside. Leave his parents or leave his friends? His parents were urging him to go, saying they would yell for him if they found someone or if something happened but…   
_But what if they don't have the time? What if I don't hear them? What if, by leaving to find Lex and Lana, I give Shawn easier access to my parents?_   
If anyone died here tonight, he knew he would be to blame. It would be the fault of his own inaction and the accountability would rest squarely on his shoulders.   
_ This is getting us nowhere_, he thought, frustration getting the better of him. He didn't want any of his friends to die because of him, but he couldn't leave his parents. He knew there was no other choice and slowed down from his light jog, watching as his mother and father did the same, turning to look at him.   
"What is it?" Jonathon asked.   
"I have an idea." He breathed in. "I'm going to try and look through the entire house."   
His father looked relieved. "We'll be on the look out for anything."   
Martha nodded, smiling tightly with reassurance. "Take your time, Clark. We'll call you if we need you."   
He cleared his throat. "I'm not leaving you guys."   
Jonathon frowned. "How are you goi-" he sighed. "Your eyes?"   
"Yes."   
His mother looked him up and down quickly. "But Clark- From here? Your headaches are already hurting you too much and that's just from looking through the rooms on this floor."   
"I should be able to find them quicker this way."   
"How do you know you can even see through all of that?" Jonathon asked, gesturing towards the walls.   
"I don't, but I've been getting better with using the sight. The pain," he started, looking at his mother and knowing her next move. "-is just something I'm going to have to push aside."   
"What happens if you can't just push it aside, Clark?" his father asked. "What if the headache becomes too much for you to handle?"   
Clark ignored the question. There was no time to argue about this. "I'll check the first floor, first-" his mother grabbed his father's arm. "-and then this floor. They can't be too far. Right?"   
After the briefest hesitation, his father nodded, acquiescing to Clark's plan. "It's the best course of action, besides leaving us. We might just be going in continuous loops anyway. If they're looking for us, that is."   
"Exactly," Clark voiced, glad his father was on board, even if it was reluctantly. "Okay, here goes."   
His mother grimaced and his father stiffened. He looked to the floor and concentrated hard.   
His vision flashed and the thick carpet of the floor began to disappear slowly, as if melting across his line of vision. He could see through the floor to the foyer below. There was nothing.   
Nothing but the thrashing of hammers against his skull, pulverizing the thick bone.   
_Jesus._   
He rubbed his temples and began to move his eyes to the left, hoping to catch some movement, some discarded jacket, open window or other clue as to whether or not this was the right direction. There were no farmers to worry about, but there were his friends and,   
His heart sped up as he suddenly realized that, also in danger were the many employees that Lex had currently working and holding residence at the manor.   
_Why didn't I think of them before?_   
Because he was primarily worried about his family and friends, then the farmers. I hadn't hit him to think about hired help as he really rarely even saw them around on his trips to the mansion. It wasn't in his nature to think of people as servants.   
Still, it was selfish for him to be looking just for his friends. He should be looking for Shawn instead. What if the boy had gone off in search of the maids? The cooks? Lex's servants living on whatever floor they were on?   
_Shit! I've been going about this all wrong. I should be going against the whole problem, not searching for bits and pieces of the equation._   
Just as he was coming to the wall of the foyer a large crash came from behind him and he could hear glass shards descending to the floorboards beneath him.   
He whipped around, worried that in his concentration he'd not heard nor seen Shawn sneak up on him and his parents.   
_Oh, God, what have I-_   
His mother and father watched him wild-eyed and worried. The hallway was lacking and brown-eyed, blond-haired, blue-skinned teen.   
"What did you see, Clark?"   
"What is it, honey?"   
He frowned at his parents. The crash… They didn't even look behind them. "What was that noise?"   
"What was what noise?" his dad asked, following the direction Clark's gaze, and Martha followed his.   
Clark was starting to get worried. Whatever fell to the floor had been loud, like it was right behind them. As he looked, however, he saw nothing splintered behind him. Worse than that, the floor was covered with a thick, plush carpeting.   
_But it fell on wood..._   
"That crash," he whispered. "The glass. Didn't you-"   
His parents looked confused and he shook his head, turning back to the floor and staring ahead, wincing at the throbbing as he struggled to begin.   
"Honey, please-"   
His mother's voiced echoed around him but he shook his head, "I don't care about a little headache."   
He knew the looks that both of his parents were giving him proved that they knew it was more than just a 'a little headache'.   
"Clark."   
He waved shook his head impatiently and stared through the floor, moving more quickly in the opposite direction of the foyer. He saw a flashlight on the floor in the room and guessed it was the one his father had discarded. He kept moving to the right.   
"**_Lana?!_**"   
Clark's head about split open, but at the same time his heartbeat tripled in joy at hearing Lex's voice. The man was alive. He sounded pissed off but healthy. Clark concentrated hard on keeping his vision open.   
"Lex!" he hissed to his parents, surprised at the volume of his own whisper. His father stepped up to him, but he held out a hand to halt the progress. He prayed that his father wouldn't speak.   
_Wait a minute_, he thought. _Now I can _hear_ things, too? Do the sight and the hearing come together? Or can I separate them?_   
He'd never noticed anything with his hearing before and now was most definitely not the time to experiment. He didn't want to accidentally lose the hearing and lose his connection to the one friend he knew for sure was alright.   
He swung his head around in the direction of Lex's voice and peered through the walls, seeing nothing in the next hallway but moving past.   
"**_Fordman?!_**"   
Clark's view entered the next hallway and he saw a skeleton walking and swinging something large and metal in it's hand. The corridor was three hallways down from them, also separated from by levels of long and wide rooms.   
_He's so close…_   
"**_Get out here, now!_**"   
Clark fell to his knees on the floor, grabbing his pounding head, and grinned. One of his three friends was fine. Alive. Clearly infuriated about something to do with Lana and Whitney, but alive and breathing and not frozen and lacking a lively pulse, all vital organs working, blood pumping the way it was supposed to.   
All they had to do was get to Lex through the hallways and help him with Lana and Whitney.   
_Could they have run off?_   
"**WHAT'S WRONG, SON?!**" His father's voice was probably no more than a whisper, but it sounded as loud as a thousand voices screaming in unison right up against his ear.   
The world around Clark went completely black. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Shawn traced his finger down the hard, smooth cheek of the dead little Italian chick, admiring the way her face had frozen in a countenance of pitiful frenzy and fear. Her skin felt like cold porcelain to his now warm touch and he grinned.   
"Thanks, babe."   
He stood straightening out his letterman jacket around him. Sermi had contained quiet a bit of heat for someone so tiny, but he could feel it already beginning to slip away. He had to find someone else and soon.   
_Is that really going to help_, he asked himself. _What if the next person's four times as hot and you can't hold on to even that_?   
"Shut up!" he hissed.   
_But what if-_   
He ran over to the metal fridge and slammed his fist straight through the stainless steel door. Pain and stars invaded his senses, cutting off the thoughts of anything but finding more heat, something to ease the pain.   
He shivered. _Shit_! He looked down to see the tips of his free fingers turning blue. _Motherfucker_!   
Sermi's heat was not lasting long at all.   
_ I took too long teasing her, took too long-_   
**_"Lana?!_**" 

…………… 

He slowly pulled his arm out of the fridge and started towards the direction of the shout. He smiled, knowing that the voice sounded… familiar.   
It also had sounded loud and tinny, as if it were echoing through a pipe, a tunnel, or a-   
"Dumbwaiter," he whispered menacingly, seeing the little elevator designated specifically for food. He pulled up the well oiled hatch and locked it in the up position.   
"**_Fordman?! Get out here, now!_**"   
That was a voice he recognized. The heir of LuthorCorp. The scion of the multi-billionaire.   
Alex Luthor, the son of Lionel Luthor, the sole man responsible for Shawn's grandfather; the man's sudden change from a happy but stern man full of convictions and love to a repugnant, spiteful abusive alcoholic.   
Shawn's face twisted in a face full of intoxicating hate and utter contempt. At eight, he had lost his hero, the man he loved more than anything. More than ice cream Sundays, more than warm summer nights in tents with friends or jumping into Crater Lake with his best buds. More than even the perfect secret fort that he, Eric Flankman, Peter Ross and Tony Schinder had constructed with wood from the surrounding trees in the forests of Smallville.   
He had watched for seven years as the man cheated on his grandmother, beat his only grandson- once his greatest of many admirers- and drink himself stupid and exhausted. All because Manny Kelvin had stood up against Lionel's tyranny, receiving in return a bogus lawsuit of which Luthor won, resulting in the loss of his grandfather's farm and livelihood. Manny's whole world, his whole life and everything that had ever represented the Kelvin's in the old man's mind.   
Shawn's hands clenched, the grip so tight it hurt him. Lex Luthor was Lionel's only heir. Lex Luthor was Lionel's life, his whole point in existing. Making more money, passing it on and keeping the Luthor name alive. Money was to the Luthor's what the farm had been to Manny and the senior Luthor had no brothers, meaning there were _no. Other. Luthor's_.   
_Lex is Lionel's only son_.   
Shawn grinned.   
_Lex _was _Lionel's only son_.   
He shivered, his forearms shadowing over with blue chill, and nodded to himself, formulating a plan. He was going to take away Lionel's reason for living. He probably loved his son in the way that only rich people could, which would be a bonus for Shawn. The geezer was most likely too old to have another kid. Too old to lose his only son and the last in the whole entire Luthor lineage.   
_Should've had more brats you fucking bloodsucker._   
Shawn reached into his pocket and grabbed the flashlight he had taken from the counter, flipping it on and looking inside the dumbwaiter. It was old but looked to be made of metal. he pushed down on the base, finding it incredibly sturdy, and realized that with all of the guests the Luthor's most likely hosted, the dumbwaiter could probably hold at least 200 pounds of food.   
_Really fucking old, though._   
It had no roof and the rope to the side looked frayed. It wasn't fiberglass, but actual _rope_, which meant that, while he'd have to pull himself up, at least he'd get a better grip. The whole thing was certainly _big _enough to hold him comfortably. He could only hope that his assessment of it's strength was accurate.   
He climbed in carefully, shivering as he felt the heat leaving his body in waves.   
_Focus on something... Heat... You'll be getting heat. You'll be getting-_   
"Luthor."   
Pictures of a dying Lex Luthor, gasping, crying out, screaming and pleading for his life and mercy; his bloodshot eyes overfilling with tears or pain and pure mortal agony...   
Shawn laughed and went for more images as he started to pull up on the rope.   
_His bald fucking freak head turning icy blue and his body shuttering with fucking _**fear**_beneath me_.   
He pictured himself fucking the younger Luthor right up his pampered little daddy's-boy ass with his frozen cock in literal interpretation of what Lionel had done to his grandfather; could hear the resonant, harmonious screams coming from the little well-to-do brat and reverberating throughout Shawn's bones.   
"Don't worry, Pappy," he whispered. "He's coming."   
Revenge was going to be sweet for his Manny's soul, waiting in Hell until the dead Luthor boy reached him. Then _he_ could have a turn raping the kid. Only his could last until Lionel was ushered beneath. Then he could fuck the senior Luthor for all eternity.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To be continued... [CHAPTER FOUR: Even Closer]**


	6. Chapter Four - Even Closer

TITLE: Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "Cool" (CHAPTER FOUR - Even Closer)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
GENRE: Action/Adventure, Suspense, Itty-bitty Angst, Romance and Horror   
PAIRINGS: JK/MK, LnLg/WF, CK/LxLr.   
RATING: NC-17   
SUMMARY: We're still going!   
AUTHOR'S THANKS: First of all to my wonderful beta reader, FaItHzAnGeL {I'm SO waiting for the next chapters of 'Soul Searching' and 'More than Just Being There'} who took this in yesterday, spent all night betaing it, and came through in time this morning. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! Any mistakes are mine.   
#2. Also a BIG-BOOTY THANKS to everyone who mentioned this story in emails and/or reviews asking me, begging me, then finally DEMANDING that I post the next chapter. It got my ass in gear.   
AUTHOR'S APOLOGIES: 1. Sorry for all of the mistakes still very much _there_ in the last chapter. Things often roll by so quickly beneath my eyes that I don't even see them.   
2. Sorry my stupid self took so long to get this next chapter out. Between RL [and a great, yummy boyfriend] and my original novel [damn plot and characters changing over and over] and other CLex fics [and whatnots] catching all my attention, I just can't seem to keep focus on my babies [_ILS_ and this]. I'm altering different habits and making these two a priority, so please, don't worry about me not posting more devotedly.   
FEEDBACK: Please!! I know I don't deserve it, but I'll try my best to make you all happy. Whatever you want!! Want my prized and beloved Koontz/King/Grisham collection? Or maybe my key chains? My Gary Oldman pictures, maybe? My hair? You want my hair? Well, okay. I really do think that Lex is incredible sexy and hey, it works for Sinead.   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com 

* * *

** Mansion on the Hill: A Shipper's Alternate Ending to "Cool"**

** CHAPTER FOUR – Even Closer**

"Oh, my God!" Martha ran to her hurt little boy, so pale and still, and pulled his limp form into a strong embrace.   
_My baby, my little baby._   
"Clark! Honey?!"   
No response.   
"Oh, please… Jonny! Do something…" She looked up to find a panicked expression matching her own twisting her husband's face. He dropped to his knees next to them and lightly touched two fingers to Clark's forehead. Martha could barely swallow at the emotion, the worry in Jon's eyes.   
"I kn-knew it w-would happen," he started softly.   
Her chin trembled. The stutter. Sometime during Clark's second year with them it disappeared and she hadn't heard it since.   
_Oh, Christ, Jon. Not now._   
"I kn-kn-knew."   
_Oh, love, it's not your fault._   
"If he tr-tried t-t-too hard… With his… His s-sight. I kn-knew it was going to hurt him. I felt it in my g-gut, Martha."   
"We both did, Jon. It's not-"   
"Then why d-d-didn't we t-try harder t-to stop him?!" he stammered angrily.   
"Because we knew it wouldn't do a damn thing!" she snapped back, knowing he needed that tone to jar him out of his temporary self-pity. She always needed consoling, he always needed harsh reality.   
She looked back at Clark, her heart feeling strangely separated from her body. It hurt to understand that neither of them could help their little boy to control himself. They were no longer responsible for his actions, could not convince him _not_ take a chance when he felt it fully necessary, but still felt the full weight of the consequences when something went wrong; whether it ended up making more trouble or hurting Clark. They always felt as if they hadn't tried hard enough.   
Now, however, was not the time for the guilt trip.   
He closed his eyes and nodded. "You're r-right… I k-know."   
She softened her tone. "He said he heard something, didn't he?"   
Jonathon shrugged helplessly. "He s-said something ah-b-bout a cr-crash, then seeing L-L-L-"   
"Lex," she supplied gently. She was shaking horribly. Her husband's long-absent ailment coming back now and getting worse by the sentence.   
_ God._   
"But, M-M-M… He was s-so p-p-pale… I buh-barely heard him. I was j-just so d-damn worried."   
"He strained too hard, that's all." She was amazed at both Jon's weakness and her own strength. This was not how it was supposed to be. She needed Jon's strength right now. She'd never had to be the strong one before and didn't know if she could handle it.   
_You have to be_, she scolded herself. _For Clark. For Jonny. For Lex and Lana and Whitney and who knows who else is in this deathtrap castle._   
She swallowed. "He'll be fine."   
Jonathon looked up. "But how s-soon? S-s-soon enough t-to save us? T-to save the kuh-kids?"   
She looked down at Clark, relieved to notice that color was beginning to repaint his still too pale face, and closed her eyes.   
_Please, let him wake up soon…_   
"I don't know."   
Jonathon took her hand in his. It was shaking. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

It took him longer than he thought it would to pull himself up in the dumbwaiter, finding as soon as he started that the relic was purely for show and elegance. Though the hatch in the kitchen had been well-oiled, the pulley systems at the top and bottom were very obviously not. The constant creaks and squeaks were hindering his speed and he wondered just how long this particular piece had been out of service.   
_Fucking house. Fucking freaking goddamn rich fucks._   
Almost five whole minutes infra the beginning of his mini-voyage, he reached the second floor, cold hands finally separating themselves from the fraying, icy rope. Careful not touch the metal hatch in front of him, he used his jacket covered elbow to lift the door into the open position, hearing the click of the automatic stand as it popped into place.   
He steadied himself, preparing to pull out of the service lift by gripping the edges of the wall but the instant his fingers met wall, he felt the live wires and stilled. None had ever been this strong and it took him a moment to realize that it was because there was two people close by. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the two, sensing their heat closest and to his right. There was another charge, also pretty close but still further down the hall and… and it seemed to be slowly moving backwards, _away_ from him.   
The two together had to be Lana and Whitney. If the single heat source was Luthor, it would only make sense that Shawn's classmates were the others. After all, Lex _had _been calling for them.   
He frowned, catching another blip on his screen. It was even larger than what he guessed to be Lang and Fordman, but much farther away and stationary.   
_Hmmm…_   
The largest charge he'd deal with later.   
Shawn crawled out of the service lift and after debating for a moment, reached in and grabbed the flashlight. He looked down at his hands. They were blue again and shaking.   
_Like I never even… Like I never even took the heat from Sermi…_   
He knew what he needed before he attacked Lex, before he let revenge take its sweet toll upon the Luthor fortune and estate.   
_Lana…_   
He needed to be calm, possessed and clear-headed.   
_Whitney…_   
He wanted to kill the bald bastard as slowly as possible, didn't care if it was the last thing he ever did. Dying suddenly didn't matter.   
_Look at me… What the fuck do I have to lose?_   
This was no longer about him staying alive, warm.   
_Pappa…_   
Maybe after he killed Lex, if he made it past tonight, it would become his own life again. Maybe. But right now… It was all for his hero. His hero transformed into a devil of flesh and blood… His own flesh and blood. Turned against him by a cold and uncaring, tainted hand.   
A hand tainted by lineage, by lessons from heartless ancestors passed down throughout the year. Now that lineage, the end of the line- the flesh and blood of Lionel Luthor- roamed these halls, breathing the same air as Shawn, seeing the same rooms and stepping on the same floors.   
_Pappa…_   
He would be the martyr if necessary. He had loved his grandfather with all his puerile heart and soul. Lionel had taken that gentle defender away, replacing him with the worst possible view of humankind's filth and scum; showing the core, the potential of rottenness within every mortal alive.   
The Luthors would pay dearly for giving him the unwanted insight, but first Shawn needed heat. Lana and Whitney could provide him enough to stay sane while finding Alexander and starting on the boy's torture.   
He ducked down, hand briefly skimming the deep red wood of the floor beneath him and, grinned. He would follow the wired path towards where Lana and Whitney awaited, unknowing. They were close and _still_ not moving away.   
_All the easier to catch._   
Yes, the heat from his 'friends' would make the beginning of the anguish possible.   
He closed his eyes. 

_ **...Luthor's wet and bloody screams of piercing agony; the pained body writhing in beautiful desperation beneath him...**_   
**_ ...the shameful and cowardly pleads for mercy; the priceless tears, each a drop of gold in payment of the devil for his grandsire's soul..._**   
**_ ...the eroticism of death to the inhuman and the overwhelming lust to be responsible for this disgusting Luthor child's last breath; watching with that breath the Luthor future and fortune fade to nothingness..._**

It would all carry him through the physicality of the task. If there was one single thing he could stay warm for, this was it. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Okay," Lana whispered. She was peeking through a sliver in the opened closet door. "I think… I think it's safe, Whitney."   
She started to open the door but Whitney's hands pulled her backwards, tightening around her waist.   
"I love you," he whispered and she could feel his heart pounding against her shoulder blades. "So much, Lahny."   
"Oh, Whitney." She turned in his arms and smiled back up at him. "I love you, too. Always."   
He bent down to kiss her, passion and sweetness all coming through. Just as she moaned against his lips, he pulled away. "Lana, I want…"   
_Anything. Anything at all, love._   
"Yes?"   
He ran his fingertips through her hair, eyes transfixed on their downward progression. "I want to ask you something."   
"Anything," she said, echoing her thoughts.   
"In a few years… After high school…"   
She breathed in deeply.   
_ He's going to ask me where I want to be. Or if I still see myself with him. I do and I know he loves me, but…_   
She put her finger to his lips. _But what if we have different plans? Different ideal futures? What if there are things we are not willing to give up for the love of one another? What if we cannot compromise?_   
"Not now, Whitney," she begged quietly, not wanting to promise something during her emotional state that she could not keep with in the future. "Please, whatever it is, let it wait until we're under better circumstances."   
He nodded, grabbed her around her waist and pulled them together, almost harshly. She felt him sigh into her hair, warm and shaky, both relief and disappointment washing off him. "You're right. I just-"   
He cut himself off by pulling back and away, reaching behind her. He grabbed the closet knob and gave her a weak smile. "Protectors first, kay?"   
She nodded, knowing the smile was one of disappointment but also seeing self-contempt within and not really understanding why. Did he realize this was a bad time to ask something so deep and plan-altering? Or did he think that she didn't love him enough to want the future?   
She moved behind him, willing to follow behind and allow him some time for contemplation, needing that same time for herself as well.   
Whitney gave her a small peck on the cheek and turned the knob, opening the door and starting out.   
The silver beam from a bright flashlight hit him immediately, blinding him. He winced and covered his eyes. "Hey, Mr. Luthor."   
Lana's heart jumped into her throat.   
_Shit._   
"We're really sorry about not staying put. We were just looking for a flashlight and-"   
"Flashlight. Right."   
Lana's heart stopped and the blood rushing through her veins froze. That wasn't Lex's voice.   
"I'm sure you were, Whitney."   
_It was Shawn's._   
"Shit," Whitney spat and the next thing Lana knew she was being shoved back into the closet. She fell to the ground and her ankle- which had not been bothering her at all up to this point- twisted around painfully.   
She cried out and grasped her foot.   
Whitney looked down at her, regretful, afraid and brave at the same time. "Don't come out!"   
"Like hell," she shouted but he closed the door. "Whitney! Damn it!"   
As she struggled to get up she heard Shawn laugh followed by a slight struggle. Whitney cried out and the noise someone hitting the floor carried back to her.   
"Whitney!"   
Just as her hand reached out to the knob the metal condensed then froze over.   
"Oh, God."   
The door opened and she looked up to see red eyes and a blue face staring back at her. A hand slipped in and grazed her arm before she pulled back.   
"NO!" Whitney shouted, a little breathless from behind the door.   
"I'll be with you, Princess," Shawn whispered, winking one crimson-veined eye in her direction. "Just give me a moment."   
She listened as Whitney rushed Shawn, saw Shawn turn to look at him, then heard Whitney fall to the ground and moan in pain.   
"That's what happens, Witty," he began, amused. "-when you run into someone's fist. And thanks, by the way, for storing your girlfriend for me. It'll be much easier if I don't have to track her down. Not as much fun mind you," Lana cringed when she heard Shawn's foot land a kick into some random part of her lover. "-but I've got plans that require a nice reserve of heat."   
Lana grabbed the knob and yanked on the door. It didn't budge, but the icy cold of the metal grew until her hand was completely stuck.   
"Damn it!" She struggled to free her hand and Shawn chuckled.   
"Like that, gorgeous?" His free hand skimmed her cheek and she shivered, the pit of her stomach becoming hard and hot from hate and fear.   
He took his hand back to blow her a kiss. "Be with you, sweetheart. Just gotta take care of my teammate here."   
He shut the door, then pushed on it hard. After the briefest hesitation, the doorframe cracked and the wooden door jammed into the crevice.   
"NO!!" she shouted, trying to pull her hand back. It was stuck, the flesh wholly adhered to the metal. The door wasn't budging either. "WHITNEY!!!" She tried to breathe, finding it harder with the mental images unrelentingly tormenting her mind and heart. "SHAWN!" she half-sobbed, half-screamed. "TAKE ME INSTEAD! PLEASE!!"   
"Oh, I intend to take you," Shawn said smoothly.   
She banged her head up against the door angry, helpless and alone. She realized that the cold she was feeling all over, the breathlessness… It wasn't from the fear.   
Shawn was using the doorknob as a conductor for her heat.   
"HELP US!!!!" She screamed, but her throat was going raw and dry, her head dizzy and her breath was dissipating at an alarming rate. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

He'd know that feeling anywhere.   
As soon as he had called for Lana and Whitney, Lex had gotten goosebumps and a sudden eerie sensation that he attributed to someone's eyes on him. Instantly, he understood what the goosebumps were for.   
_Clark..._   
He knew the thrill of his body when Clark's eyes passed over him better than he knew the feeling of hot water from a shower, warm air from a fire, or the burning of his scalp from the blazing sun. The familiarity of Clark's gaze was hotter and brighter than all the Universe's stars put together in one tiny jar, and yet it sent shivers down his spine and the aforementioned goosebumps in their wake. How many times had he trembled with internal heat and turned to find Clark's eyes on him? It didn't matter where they were; his mansion, Clark's loft, out about town, or just some function. Those eyes were the eyes of a predator and though he knew for a fact he wasn't the prey- as willing a victim as he would be given the chance- sometimes he just got chills.   
Now heading back the way he came, he didn't know why he had felt surprised at the realization that the youngest Kent was somewhere in his father's mansion- Lex didn't doubt for even a milli-instant that he was. It was as if he had a Clark beacon attached to his adrenaline. It seemed that lately, whenever he felt in danger: **_BAM_**! Farmboy to the rescue with fast and furious precision. Add to the fact that his parent's and his crush-   
_Where are you, Lana?_   
-were also on the grounds and Clark's spider-senses must have been driving him up the wall.   
Once Lex felt Clark's eyes on him he had stilled for almost a full minute, expecting Clark's appearance from down the hall or coming from one of the rooms. It took him a moment to realize he was expecting it because he'd never felt Clark's eyes on him so strongly without the boy actually being there. Every now and then he'd be sitting in the Beanery waiting to 'run into' Clark, feel the eyes on him and then see Clark entering. He'd occasionally feel those eyes on his back while walking about in town, then hear feet padding quickly as Clark ran to catch up with him.   
_As if I were important enough in his life for him to run to._   
His sense, however, had never been wrong when it came to Clark's presence, and he had no reason to doubt it now.   
_So, Clark's here_, he thought, surprised at just how much that thought put him at peace. His genuine reaction to the farmboy's presence was that everything was going to be alright.   
_How strange._   
Lex had decided that he had been most definitely been heading in the _wrong _direction to find Lana and Whitney, so, with all sense registering, he turned back and headed the way he had just come. The odd feeling that there was someone in his new direction grew with every step he took and soon he was running.   
Entering a darkened hallway, he recognized his father's War Room and the guest gym to his left. He felt more elated and figured that the only reason this could be was that he was close. Close to someone somewhere.   
_Please let it be Lana and Whitney._   
As much as seeing Clark would relieve him, he _needed_ to find the ex-cheerleader and the quarterback. Clark could take care of himself. Lex wasn't sure the other two teens were that keen in the area of self-preservation.   
He opened the door to the guest gym, starlight streaming in from the windows to his left making the path to the door on the other side of the room clearer, he started forward.   
**_"NO!!"_**   
Lex froze to the spot, his entire body becoming rigid and his pulse suddenly jumping, heart pounding hard within his ribcage. The scream was coming from where he had been only minutes earlier.   
_Lana! Oh, god!_   
**_"WHITNEY!!!"_**   
_ Both of them!_   
He spun around, ran out the gym and started back the way he came at top speed.   
**_"SHAWN!"_**   
Lana's voice was on fire with frustration and fear, pain and anger and Lex panicked.   
_ Christ! Oh, God! Oh, shit!_   
**_"TAKE ME INSTEAD! PLEASE!!"_**   
_What have I done?_   
_ What have I done?_   
_I should have never left them alone!_   
His stomach churned at the rawness in the young girl's voice, the saddeningly honest self-sacrifice she had just offered. She loved Whitney, would give her life for his, and was, for some reason, unable to fight. Lex knew Lana Lang was a fighter, not a screamer, so what was keeping her from trying to protect Whitney? What the hell was going on? What was Shawn doing to her boyfriend?   
**_ "HELP US!!!"_**   
_I'm coming_!! he thought desperately as he tore open a heavy ebony door, slamming it into the wall as he ran through. He wanted so desperately to call out, to scream at the top of his lungs that he was on his way to just please hold on until he got there, to just please keep fighting if they could, if _she _could, and don't give up. He wanted to scream to Lana to let her know she wasn't alone, that these were _not_ her last moments but it would give the killer teen a heads up to the oncoming attack, turning Lex's offense to a counterstrike defense.   
_Please_, he prayed to anyone and anything willing to listen. _I'll do anything… Just don't let them die_. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

**_"NO!!"_**   
Martha and Jonathon jumped and looked up at each other.   
"Lana-"   
"Oh, G-God-"   
"CLARK!" they yelled in unison.   
**_"WHITNEY!!!"_**   
Martha's stomach retched and she clutched Clark to her chest and began rocking him. "Please, baby, wake up," she started loudly. "Oh, baby. Clark, baby, Lana needs you, Whitney needs you and no one else can help. Please, baby, _please…_"   
**_"SHAWN!"_**   
"Jesus!"   
**_"TAKE ME INSTEAD! PLEASE!!"_**   
Jonathon grabbed hold of Clark, pulling him from his mother's grasp and started shaking him just as Martha's upset stomach began to rumble and quiver. She crawled a few feet away from her boys and began to dry heave, tears of fear and sorrow welling up behind her eyes and dropping to the thick carpeting below.   
_Oh, God. Lana. Lana. Whitney. Lana. Lex. Lana._   
_ Lana. Just offered her life to spare Whitney's._   
_ Oh, Lana._   
_ Lex, where the hell are you? How did the kids get out of your sight? Or are you dead, too?_   
_ Lana..._   
_ Clark, baby..._   
_Please..._   
"KUH-CLARK!" Jonathon shouted. "W-WAKE UP!"   
**_"HELP US!!!"_**   
Martha's tears began to fall faster. She heard the sound of her husband slapping Clark, desperate to awake their fallen child, their downed champion, and all she wanted to do was pass out. Pass out or wake up.   
_Wake up. Yes, this must be a nightmare._   
She knew it wasn't, though and she shut her eyes, listening.   
The silence reigned; no more screams, no more Lana. She threw up. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

_ darkness all around…_   
_ darkness and a throbbing sensation…_   
_ it hurts so much…_   
_ it hurts above, but…_   
_ but within, too…_   
_ it feels like it's a part of me…_   
_ at the same time it surrounds the darkness…_   
_ not quite reaching me…_   
_ it seems to be throbbing, pulsing…_   
_ both me and…_   
_ and the darkness…_   
_ pain…_   
_ but not physical…_   
_ then again, it is…_   
_ it must be…_   
_ what's going on…_   
_ i hear…_   
_ screaming…_   
_ my mother…_   
_ my…_   
_ my father…_   
_ but not…_   
_ oh, god, lex…_   
_ what do you think you're doing…_   
_ nothing…_   
_ nothing…_   
_ it's what i'm doing…_   
_ what is that…_   
_ screams…_   
_ fuck me, no, no, no…_   
_ lana…_   
_ whitney…_   
_ it's shawn…_   
_ ican'tmove, ican'tmove, ican'tmove…_   
_ but i hear her screams…_   
_ please…_   
_ somebody…_   
_ help them…_   
_ help them…_   
_ save them…_   
_ lex…_   
_ i can't move…_   
_ i am awake, mom…_   
_ i just can't move…_   
_ i'm here dad, i just can't-…_   
_ …_   
_ …_   
_ did he just…_   
_ hit me…_

**___brightness___**

_what the hell…_   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To be continued... [CHAPTER FIVE: Almost]**


End file.
